


The Proper Incentive

by LaurytheLatrator



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7712599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurytheLatrator/pseuds/LaurytheLatrator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Police Chief Lisbon is abducted, the hunt for her extends through the FBI and the defunct CBI network, all the way to a tiny island off Venezuela.<br/> <br/><i>“Abbott,” Jane began dangerously, “If Lisbon is found safe and whole, you can clap me in irons and throw away the key. But if not, there is nothing in this world that could stop me from making your life hell, yours and the people who did this to her. Do you understand me?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proper Incentive

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought there was wasted potential in the Season 6 storyline, so here is an alternate. Please enjoy and leave comments, I'd love to discuss my ideas with you all :)

 

 

Five PM on a Monday never used to be clocking out time, but everything was different in Canon River. Chief Lisbon shuffled paperwork around her desk, prolonging the inevitable return to an empty house. She satisfied herself dividing it into two piles; immediate attention and busy work.

Her intercom buzzed to life, “Hey Chief, I’m about to head out, you need anything?”

She responded, “No, thank you, Henry.” Deciding that was that, Lisbon packed the pressing paperwork into her briefcase. Working from home was familiar at least.

Lisbon took a moment to glance down at the conch shell on her desk. It wasn’t much of a reminder; she was extremely careful with the image she presented to her colleagues at Canon River PD. The real treasures were at home, in a box. But this was an indulgence…

  

> _Dear Lisbon,_
> 
> _You’re surprised. This is surely my largest package yet. It cost me an exorbitant amount of postage. However, I couldn’t resist._
> 
> _So often I wish you could be here with me, walking down the beach beside me, sipping beer at the cantina, even sharing my room if you wouldn’t find it too cramped and squalid. You would, so the last point is moot, but it doesn’t hurt to dream. I wonder if you ever think the same, about being here with me. I couldn’t have asked, back then. You would never want to be separated from your brothers._
> 
> _But when your mind turns to fancy, I thought you could use this. Hold it to your ear and hear the same crashing ocean waves that I do. With your eyes closed imagine that we’re basking in the sun together, close enough to touch, instead of worlds away. I do. Whenever I close my eyes, I see you. And I always will._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

“Chief?” Lisbon broke out of her memory, glancing down at her intercom.

“Yes, Henry?”

“There’s a man here to see you. Should I send him in?” She paused. Canon River was a small town. Henry knew everyone by name, so if it was a resident, he would have introduced him. If it was law enforcement, surely they would have identified as such, and Henry, poor easily intimidated Henry, would have passed it awkwardly along. Wayne and Grace had visited last week, there’s no reason he’d be stopping by. She hadn’t heard from Cho and had no indication he’d be apologizing anytime soon. Tommy was a possibility, if he was chasing a bail jumper and stopped by.

She resolutely did not imagine one impossible possibility.

“Yes, send him in.” There was a small pause. “Now, Henry,” She added more sharply.

“Yes, Chief!” Lisbon clasped her hands on the desk. Whoever it was, she’d maintain a professional appearance.

When he stepped inside, a smarmy grin on his face, a shock wave went through Lisbon. She reached for her sidepiece before realizing her position and stopping herself.

“Surprised to see me?” He asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes,” She hissed, standing and leaning over her desk, “What are you doing here?”

“You and I have unfinished business. And please, Agent Lisbon, don’t make a scene.” He shifted, his jacket moving aside to reveal all the incentive she’d need.

Pure terror seized Lisbon for the first time in nearly two years.

 

* * *

 

Agent Cho entered his boss’ office, Supervisory Agent Abbott, feeling no trepidation whatsoever. When Abbott had recruited him for his team, Cho understood his reasons: the manhunt for Patrick Jane was ongoing, with Abbott officially at the helm, and he believed the former CBI agent may be of use. Cho’d quickly corrected his mistaken assumption.

Cho had zero insight into the mind of Patrick Jane. They had maintained a professional distance that saved them both trouble. And while Cho was FBI now, he still wasn’t convinced Jane deserved to go to prison for killing McAllister. A jury would probably agree, which was why Cho also wasn’t opposed to the FBI finding Jane and prosecuting him.

It didn’t take long for Cho to prove his competency to Abbott, and soon he was out of Patrick Jane’s shadow. He worked well with Agent Fischer and the other agents beneath Abbott. It wasn’t the rapport he’d experienced at the CBI, but then no one was telling him to pretend to kill someone or burying suspects alive or strangling serial killers, so maybe that was for the best.

There wasn’t an open case Cho was aware of, so when Cho stood across from Abbott’s desk, he expected to be handed a file for review or informed of some new protocol or other. When Abbott directed him to sit, he did so out of politeness. That was when he noticed how worried his boss appeared.

“When was the last time you spoke to your former boss, Teresa Lisbon?” Abbott asked gently.

Unbidden his words came back to him…

_“He wouldn’t find your loyalty charming. The FBI is not your enemy. They were doing their job, just like we should have been. I know, I stand by our decisions then, I’m just— This is a new start. You were cleared from the Blake Association like me and Rigs and Grace, the only one making you a pariah is you, Lisbon. You’re going to waste your life punishing yourself, squandering your talents, and waiting on a man who isn’t coming back!”_

He shook his head, shaking off the echoes. “Almost six months ago now, when I graduated Quantico. Why?” His boss hesitated, finally setting off alarm bells. Cho leaned forward, taut as a bowstring. “Is this about Jane? You’re still convinced she’s hiding something?”

“No, this is not about Jane. Well,” Abbott amended with a grimace, “Not directly.” At Cho’s blank look, the same he used in interrogations to provoke a confession, Abbott turned his computer monitor so he could see. On the screen was an email which Cho scanned with a rapidly increasing sense of dread.

I HAVE CBI AGENT TERESA LISBON  
SHE HAS AS MANY DAYS AS FINGERS  
I WILL TAKE ONE EVERY DAY UNTIL  
PATRICK JANE FINDS US AND ENDS IT  
IF YOU WANT HER TO LIVE YOU’LL COME  
TERESA MISSES YOU PATRICK

“This was sent to every law enforcement agency in the country very early this morning,” Abbott explained heavily, “Whoever this is covered their bases.”

“How do we know this is legit?” Cho asked. There was a niggling thought that if Lisbon wanted to lure Jane out of hiding, this might do the trick. She’d have a lot to answer for if she did.

“There was an attachment.” Abbott opened it. A video began to play. The image was dark, distorted by low quality, but Teresa Lisbon was visible in center frame. Even though her face was steely, Cho could recognize her tells; she was afraid. The camera, hand held, panned down, showing a black glove holding her wrist to a wooden table. A knife appeared in frame, from another set of hands. Lisbon tugged, but the black glove held strong. The knife hovered over her pinky finger.

“Don’t worry, Teresa,” A voice, crackling through a pitch filter, making it sound far lower than it must be, “I won’t take this little piggy just yet. Tomorrow night.” A darting slice made Cho wince as blood welled from a superficial cut at Lisbon’s knuckle. “Unless we see Patrick again.”

The video cut abruptly. Cho sat back, breathing out.

“You understand the situation,” Abbott said in an undertone.

“This is the first you’re telling anyone,” Cho asked, which his boss confirmed. “Sir, I need to be lead on this. Aside from my personal involvement, I have extensive experience with serial killers, and I can identify suspects from our old cases who may be behind this.”

“Already on board,” Abbott said, forestalling any further arguments. “Gather a team, use Fischer. Do you have a take so far?”

Marshaling his thoughts, Cho said, “Two assailants were needed to make that video, maybe more but probably not. It’s a personal vendetta, or else they wouldn’t keep addressing her as Teresa. The email calls her ‘CBI Agent’, so they’re harboring a grudge from when the CBI existed. I want to examine our old convictions and suspects, any enemies Lisbon made as Senior Agent, and narrow the pool from there.”

Abbott smiled slightly. “Jane taught you well.”

“No. That was all Lisbon.” At his boss’ nod, Cho went on. “Right now she’s bait, so they’ll keep her alive, but I don’t doubt they’ll torture her. We need to bring in the Rigsbys, they can go up and examine her workplace and home faster than we can. We need to locate her phone, her car, anything identifiable.”

Abbott sighed, “And there’s one other thing we need.”

 

* * *

 

The weather grew warmer and wetter each day, which the locals attributed to El Niño. His jaunts around the beaches produced more wood flotsam, and he thought he might take up whittling. His mental pursuits were few here, but at least he could keep his hands busy.

Maybe he’d make something for Lisbon. A heart would be too direct. Even thousands of miles apart, he was still wary of scaring her off. Not that he would know if he did. His letters were love letters in all but that single word. Perhaps he had already tipped his hand with his confessions of missing her, thinking of her constantly, and tender apologies for years of headaches and heartaches.

Lisbon couldn’t tell him if he had, couldn’t reproach him, couldn’t tactfully decline his attentions. That was probably why he enjoyed the one way correspondence.

He had to smile ruefully to himself. He was supposed to be healing here, not staying maudlin. Insecurity clouded his judgement. Lisbon missed him, this he knew must be true. A whittled animal would make her smile, a duck or a frog, like the origami he used to give her.

“Señor Jane, señor Jane!” Franklin, from the only hotel on the island, ran up to him. It wasn’t often Franklin sought him out in person, he usually called to leave a message at the cantina. Jane’s gaze darted around the busy street, seeking out danger. Seeing none, he took a firm grasp on Franklin’s elbow and guided him to an enclave by someone’s door.

“¿Que es, Franklin?” Jane asked quietly.

“There is an FBI agent, Agent Abbott, staying at the hotel. He showed me your picture and asked if I knew you. I said no.”

“Good man.” Jane’s thoughts traveled swiftly. He was untouchable here. Abbott had to know that. It didn’t bode well that he’d been tracked, but it was ultimately irrelevant. There would be no harm in going and seeing what the FBI wanted.

Franklin lead Jane to the hotel and pointed out the agent eating alone. Striding confidently over, Jane took a seat across from the agent. Abbott glanced up, only startled for a moment, before lowering his fork and surveying the fugitive.

“The eggs are only so-so here,” Jane told him. “If you’re looking for a vacation spot, I can recommend a few, but only Euro-trash and drug dealers frequent this establishment.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Abbott evenly replied.

“What are you doing here?” Jane asked. “You found me, congratulations, but you must have realized the extradition laws favor me here. Unless this is a social call, I’m not sure why you’d make the trip.”

“I’m not here to prosecute you, Patrick,” Abbott said, in a serious tone that made Jane examine him closer. There was a wariness around his jaw line, exhaustion by his eyes, and concern tightening his mouth.

“Something’s wrong,” Jane surmised, “What is it?”

Abbott let out a long breath, not quite a sigh, a mental preparation. His nerves jumped. When Abbott spoke, Jane already half-knew what he’d say. “Teresa Lisbon has been abducted. Her kidnappers are demanding your return. They want you to find them, no doubt to capture you as well. The FBI is doing everything we can to locate her, but we’re asking for your help.”

His heart was pounding in his ears, and Jane focused on his lungs, expanding and contracting, until he could focus. “Prove it.”

If Abbott was surprised, he didn’t show it. In fact he’d come prepared. From a manilla envelope, he withdrew and placed down a terse threatening email, and two still images from a video, the first of Lisbon’s frightened face, the second of a knife hovering over her delicate pinky finger. In spite of Abbott watching him, Jane picked up the photo of Lisbon. For the most part she was utterly familiar; her hair fell in waves now, a bit longer than it was before. She was looking defiantly into the camera, looking at him. He could recall perfectly the last time she had that expression, a brave face only partially concealing fear.

_“Take my car,” She whispered urgently, jerking her head, and not for the first or last time he wanted to swoop down and kiss her._

It couldn’t be a trick. Lisbon wouldn’t take part in a deception like this. At least not the Lisbon he’d known two years ago. Her life was unknown to him now. Still, he couldn’t gamble with her life, that was something he’d never been able to do.

“How long?” Jane asked, husky and gravely.

“Only this morning. We’ve organized a task force. We brought in the Rigsbys as consultants, and Grace informed me that she’d seen an envelope from one of your carnie friends in Lisbon’s kitchen. She wouldn’t normally give you up, but these are desperate circumstances.” Jane certainly couldn’t fault Grace, if she hadn’t had a keen eye the FBI may not have known how to contact him. Lisbon could have gone unfound until these kidnappers carried out their threat.

_Ten days._

“Let’s go.” Jane stood, and Abbott rose to match.

“Hold on a minute,” He said, hands raised placatingly, “Think about this. If you come back to the United States, you will be under FBI jurisdiction. I will take you into custody, and it is only at my discretion that you will be allowed to assist in finding Lisbon. Following her safe return, it will be my duty to hold you in detention until you are brought before federal prosecution. I understand your concern for Lisbon, but I need to know you’re prepared for the consequences.”

“Abbott,” Jane began dangerously, “If Lisbon is found safe and whole, you can clap me in irons and throw away the key. But if not, there is nothing in this world that could stop me from making your life hell, yours and the people who did this to her. Do you understand _me_?”

The two men stared at each other, much passing unsaid between them. At last Abbott nodded, and with a single exchange with Franklin to settle his debts, his life on the island was over. Within an hour Jane was looking down over the Gulf of Mexico, the churning in his stomach having nothing to do with heights.

 

* * *

 

Wayne had his foot on the accelerator most of the drive north. His partner kept tapping her phone, unwilling to waste a moment. He knew she was in contact with Cho and a FBI tech named Wylie. Wylie had a trace on Lisbon’s cell phone, but last they’d heard it was in her house. It was Grace’s idea to decrypt her phone once they got a hold of it, check for trackers or spyware.

They were nearing Canon River now, and with every mile he felt Grace grow a bit more desperate. Reaching over, he took her hand, prying it away from her phone.

“Hey,” Wayne said softly, “Take a second and breathe.” Grace shot him a look that transitioned swiftly from indignant to sheepish.

“Yeah. Thanks babe.”

“We’re going to find her,” He assured his wife. “Boss has the whole FBI looking, plus you, me, and Cho. When have we ever let her down before?”

“And Jane,” Grace said, “Abbott just confirmed they’re on a flight to Austin.”

Wayne whistled. “Wow, just like that. Two years a fugitive, and now the jig’s up.”

“It’s Lisbon. If they were you and I right now, wouldn’t you come back?” Under his wife’s gaze, he shuddered, but not at the thought of losing his freedom. The idea of Grace being abducted, with this ticking clock over her head, was absolutely unbearable.

“Yeah,” He croaked, and Grace melted and rubbed his arm. Clearing his throat, he forged on, “They want Jane to find them, and he will. Now we just gotta keep Jane from doing anything to get himself killed.”

Grace smiled, her tension all but gone, “Just like old times.”

It wasn’t long before they pulled into Lisbon’s driveway. Boss’ SUV was parked there, which he’d have to report to Cho. As they got out of the car, Wayne knew Grace was remembering all the weekend trips they’d made up to see their old friend. It was almost a monthly trip for them and the kids to see Aunt Teresa. Now the kids were under strict supervision from the sitter in San Francisco and Lisbon was at the will of some maniacs.

Their shoes crunched the gravel, and at the sight of her ajar door, Wayne pulled out his SIG-Sauer, feeling Grace do the same with her Glock. They approached the door warily, and Wayne knew his partner had his back, checking their surroundings. He took lead, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The house was very much the same except for it’s palpable emptiness.

“Entry way clear,” He announced. The layout branched to the kitchen or the living room. “You go left, I’ll stay right.”

“On it,” Grace agreed, and they split off, Wayne advancing to the living room. He paused in the doorway, surveying the room. There were definite signs of struggle, the room was in total disarray. Boss would never leave so much on the floor. The room had another entrance to the side, but a quick glance down that hallway told him it too was empty.

Belatedly he called out, “Clear!”

“Kitchen too,” She replied, “I’ll go check upstairs.”

As she said that, a glint caught his eye in the center of the room. On Lisbon’s wooden coffee table, there was a sheen of blood. “Grace, I found something!” He heard her switch direction and took a step closer. In his mind he replayed the video Cho had sent. “I think this is where they shot the proof of life.”

From the side doorway, Grace entered the room as he stepped closer. “Wayne, no!” She shrieked suddenly, catching him off guard. In his haste to turn to look at her, Wayne stumbled, falling forward. Something caught on his foot, and he realized his mistake just as he looked into his wife’s panicked eyes.

Trip wire.

Grace was running and tackling him as a _bang_ went off. They hit the floor hard, and Wayne ran his hands down her back, searching for any entry wounds. Nothing had exploded, so what was that?

“Are you hurt?” He demanded.

“No, it went over us,” She said, and they both sagged in relief. Grace remembered herself first, sitting up and looking back. Pointed across the room, a shotgun sat smoking, the trigger tied to a string Wayne could now trace across the floor. “Booby trap. This… this is insane.”

“Yeah,” Wayne agreed, “They don’t care who they would’ve killed. Whoever was investigating Lisbon’s disappearance would do. It’s… messy. ”

“They used the blood to draw you in. This wasn’t messy, it’s methodical.” She exchanged a rattled look with her husband. “So much trouble, and for what? To distract the investigation while they tended to the wounded investigators?”

He shook his head, “I don’t know. We need to call in the FBI and search this place thoroughly. _Together_.”

The Rigsbys combed the house, wary of each step, but there were no other traps. Grace found Lisbon’s cell phone, and while Wayne called Cho with a sit rep, she went to the car to hook it up to her laptop for decryption.

“You’re both fine,” Cho asked once he was updated, and Wayne reassured his friend again. “Sounds like our guys may have a grudge against law enforcement in general. I’ll add it to the profile. When you can, get a flight down to Austin. I need you here. Can you manage that with the kids?”

“I’ll let Sarah know what’s going on, she can take Ben and Maddie for a little while,” Wayne said. “We’ve gotta talk to Boss’ department and see what they know.”

After agreeing, they hung up, and Wayne strode outside to meet up with his wife. “Next stop, police station,” He called out, stopping by the passenger door. He peered inside to see his wife squinting anxiously at her computer screen. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Her phone was definitely tapped,” Grace told him, “But there’s something in this code… it looks like a list of other numbers the software is tracking. I’m running it through…” As Wayne leaned in to look, her decryption program popped. “Oh my god,” Grace muttered, and Wayne concurred. They recognized those numbers.

 

* * *

 

“Okay. Got it.” Cho said into his cell. He stood in the bullpen of the FBI, surrounded by agents at his command, all working on his directives. He’d never felt more powerless. “Send me your flight details and I’ll have an agent escort you to the building. Bye Rigs.” As he hung up, he heard the ding of the elevator. Turning, Cho was faced with his first sight of Patrick Jane after two years of exile.

His first thought was _beach bum_. Jane was tanned, his face more wrinkled, and he had a scruffy excuse for a beard. The floral patterned shirt was a far cry from a three piece suit. At least he was wearing pants, pants Cho could almost recognize as Jane’s previous style. If Jane showed up at FBI headquarters in shorts Cho would probably die of second hand embarrassment.

A step behind him was Abbott, and Cho spoke to him, ignoring Jane’s surprised and pleased expression. “We’ve got the Rigsbys flying in now, should be here in four hours. I’ve prepared a briefing, ready in five.” Abbott nodded, walking swiftly away to his office. Left alone, Cho looked at his former colleague. “Hey, Jane.”

“Cho, buddy,” It was predictable, and maybe Cho could have avoided it, but when Jane went in for a hug, he let it happen. No matter how stiff, or awkward, Cho figured they needed it. So what if his coworkers saw him fraternizing with someone who would end up in one of their detention cells soon enough. They had more pressing issues.

“Glad you’re here,” Cho told him honestly as they broke the manly embrace.

He thought Jane answered with the same honesty. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Cho lead his friend to the briefing area, chairs arranged facing the monitors. Displayed on the monitors were images from the video the techs had enhanced, with visual markers confirming Rigsby’s deduction that it had been filmed in Lisbon’s home. The email was displayed word for word, alongside a counter. Over ten hours since the email had been sent, but with Rigsby’s new information, Cho wondered if they should revise that.

Noticing Jane’s fixed gaze on Lisbon’s face, Cho thought it best to distract him. “Agent Fischer,” He latched onto his fellow agent, who obediently stopped in passing by, “Meet Jane.”

“Hi,” Jane held out his hand to shake, subjecting the unsuspecting agent to his casual scrutiny, “Patrick.”

“Kim,” She said, reacting to his smile, before his superior remembered herself, “Agent Kim Fischer. You must be the fugitive.”

“Fugitive is a harsh word,” Jane replied. Cho could tell the former psychic had sized up the agent, and wondered if it would be improper to ask his insight later. He still struggled to get a read on Agent Fischer, aside from her strict professionalism.

“Jane,” Cho said, “While you’re in the US, you’re in FBI custody. That means you don’t go anywhere without me or Agent Fischer with you.”

“Babysitting, Cho, really?” Jane rocked on his heels, looking around. “You don’t even have a couch.”

With a raised brow, Cho asked, “Are you really going to be sleeping?” Jane glanced unconsciously at Lisbon’s picture. That was answer enough. “Take a seat, the briefing’s starting soon.”

Cho moved behind the podium as the rest of the agents took their seats. Once he saw Abbott return, hovering at the back, Cho began.

“To recap, we are searching for Chief of Canon River Police, Teresa Lisbon, former Senior Special Agent for the CBI. An email was sent with proof of life, threatening to kill her in ten days. It went through a program and couldn’t be traced aside from originating in Washington state. We have new information from the Rigsbys’ investigation.”

Cho clicked his remote, displaying the pictures Rigsby had sent him of Lisbon’s living room.

“Lisbon’s home was rigged with a trap that fired a shotgun, though luckily no one was harmed. Her cell phone was located there. It contained spyware with code similar to the email’s, and Grace Rigsby was able to work back from that to discover other numbers that were bugged.” He clicked and the list of numbers and their names: TERESA LISBON, KIMBALL CHO, WAYNE RIGSBY, GRACE RIGSBY, OSCAR ARDILLES. “Lisbon, the Rigsbys, and I were all members of the Serious Crimes Unit at the CBI, and Ardilles often prosecuted our cases, which supports our theory that this is someone we investigated together.

“When the Rigsbys spoke to Canon River PD, we learned more about the circumstances of Lisbon’s abduction. Monday afternoon, Lisbon was preparing to leave work. According to her subordinate, Officer Henry Ebert, a man entered asking to meet with her. This man was Caucasian, middle aged, with a receding hairline. After a few minutes in her office, Lisbon left with this man, apparently voluntarily. That’s the last time anyone’s seen her.”

Cho clicked, “With this information we narrowed down the suspect pool considerably.” There were now five mugshots up: Linus Wagner, Richard Haibach, Donny Culpepper, John Hutten, and Jason Cooper. “We’ll be running down everything we can about these suspects, their whereabouts first and foremost. Agents will be given a suspect each to follow up on. Any questions?”

Agent Fischer said, “We know there are two assailants. Couldn’t the balding man be the accomplice, not the one with the grudge?”

It was Jane who answered, “This is an intensely personal vendetta. When he made his move, he wanted Lisbon to know. He’d want to look her in the eyes and see her fear.”

“Why go with someone she knew hated her?” Fischer insisted. “It would make more sense to lure her out with a stranger.”

“You don’t know Lisbon,” Jane said, managing to make it sound like a prayer and accusation. “She’s smart. She’d recognize a trap. The only way they could count on her cooperation would be by threatening innocent lives. That ploy would work more effectively with someone she knew to be dangerous.”

“It is a gamble,” Cho agreed with Fischer, “But it’s our best lead right now.” He looked at Jane, reading the suspects, a frown on his face. “Jane, what’s your take?”

Jane shook his head. “Not sure yet. Can I get print outs of all this? Or is using paper a big faux pas nowadays?”

Cho ignored Jane’s flippancy. “Wylie!” The tech jumped. “Get Jane a full file printed.” The blonde stuttered his compliance and scurried off. “Let’s get going people. If the kidnappers are to be believed, Lisbon loses a finger tonight.”

 

* * *

 

No matter how much they sweat under the woolen blanket, her hands could not slip out of the handcuffs. Her own goddamn handcuffs. What sort of police chief let that happen.

Lisbon shot a covert glance at her captor. As he drove, he’d been careful to leave his jacket folded open on her side, revealing the wiring of the bomb strapped around his waist. It was a warning not to disobey, one she couldn’t overlook. They’d been driving for hours, ever since leaving her house. Right before they’d left Oregon, the car had run out of gas. The whole time he’d been filling up, he’d tapped his jacket and glanced meaningfully at the station attendant.

She’d been categorizing bomb wiring in her head for what felt like ages. Between yanking the wires from a bomb to save a little girl and having a bomb strapped to her own chest, Lisbon had taken seminars in bomb disposal. She’d learned the patterns most explosive experts used and how to dismantle them.

Problem was, he only gave her glimpses, not enough to identify it.

Lisbon looked out the window at the scenery passing by. She wondered if the Serious Crimes Unit had taken this highway back on a case. They’d rarely gone to Northern California, but it was always possible.

As she’d hoped it would, her mind wandered to one of Jane’s letters. It should embarrass her that she had most of them memorized word for word. The comfort they brought her now was worth it.

 

> _Dear Lisbon,_
> 
> _Do you remember the case we worked in Las Vegas? When I bought you that set of emerald jewelry? You were so modest in insisting you return them (and poor Grace, who really did want to keep those rubies). I always wished you hadn’t. They were radiant on you._
> 
> _I’m reminiscing because I met a woman in town. She’s 63 and crafts jewelry out of beads and seashells. There was one bracelet made from iridescent green stones that would have been perfect for you. She offered me a discount for my lady love but I had to decline._
> 
> _You never liked bracelets much, did you? Whenever I picture your hands (holding a gun, because that always sticks in my mind) they rarely had any adornment._
> 
> _Maybe that’s changed now. Maybe you’ve taken to wearing expensive trinkets like earrings and bracelets. Maybe you wear a ring._
> 
> _I don’t know, but you should always be free to feel beautiful, because I’ve never met a more beautiful soul._
> 
> _Missing you,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

“You’re very quiet, Teresa,” His smug tone forced her out of the peaceful lull she’d found.

“What do you want me to say, Haibach?” Lisbon replied, and her captor grinned. She’d engaged with him and given him the opportunity he wanted.

“How’s your finger feeling?” Haibach gloated. The bandage on her pinky seemed to chafe.

“I’ll be losing it soon, won’t I?” She said steadily. “That’s your plan? Revenge for Kirkland cutting off your thumb, right?” She shook her head. “I saved you that night. Kirkland would have killed you if I hadn’t gotten there in time.”

Haibach’s fingers flexed around the wheel. “It was _you_ ,” He accused, “Who profiled me in the first place. _You_ served me up to Jane as a red herring. I wasn’t the San Joaquin Killer and I wasn’t Red John, but because _you_ hated me, I got tortured for no reason!” He struggled to rein in his temper. “Yes, Teresa, you’ll be losing your finger once we hit Fresno.”

She would have replied but for the sudden whir of a police siren behind them. Lisbon leapt to attention. The speedometer indicated 15 MPH over the limit; in his anger he’d pressed the accelerator too hard. Haibach swore as he pulled off to the shoulder. As they stopped, he glared at Lisbon and zipped up his jacket.

“Remember, the trigger is in my pocket. One itsy bitsy move out of place, and I’ll blow this cop sky high.” Fuming, she nodded. He double checked that the blanket covered her handcuffed hands, then sat back with a smile to await the officer.

The traffic cop rapped on his window, and when lowered said, “You know how fast you were going, sir?”

“No, I’m so sorry, it got away from me,” Haibach oozed, and Lisbon screamed in her mind. _This is wrong, you’re a cop, you should feel this is off!_ “See, my sister here is sick, and I’m just trying to get her home soon as possible.” Lisbon felt the officer’s eyes on her. _Remember my face! There has to be a BOLO out by now, recognize me!_ “Can you let us off just this once? I promise I’ll maintain control this time.”

After long scrutiny, the officer must have decided something, because he said, “Can you get out your license and registration for me, sir?”

She tensed as Haibach’s hand twitched. “Sure thing, it’s in my glove compartment.” Haibach leaned over Lisbon to reach it. As he did, she glanced down the neck of his jacket. She froze.

One of the wires had dislodged, she could see the frayed copper ends. No one would willingly wear an explosive that shoddy. It was a fake.

When Haibach leaned back, Lisbon surged forward. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled tight on the cuffs to choke him. Haibach sputtered and dropped the registration to struggle with her fruitlessly. The officer jumped, reaching for his holster.

“Help me!” Lisbon ordered him, and was glad her authoritative voice made him pause out of habit. “I’ve been abducted! Call for back up now, go!” The officer ran for his car, and Lisbon took a second to thank God.

Then the sound of a car collision shot through them. Lisbon’s heartbeat counted for her. A few minutes of holding Haibach still, and then his sister pointed her shotgun through the open window.

“Let him go, bitch,” Hazel demanded, and Lisbon slowly released Haibach and raised her hands. Panting, Haibach looked thankfully at his sister.

“You take care of that cop?” He asked, and when she nodded Lisbon’s heart clenched. “Good. I think it’s time we ditch that car anyway. Get in the back with her. And take this.” From the registration papers he’d withdrawn from the glove compartment, he passed her the concealed handgun.

The officer hadn’t stood a chance.

 

* * *

 

This room was a fishbowl. When Abbott directed him to the meeting room in the center of the floor, Jane had appreciated the space to spread out the files Wylie prepared for him. Now he imagined the eyes of the assembled agents weighing on his back and longed for his studio, or even the old attic.

Combing through the files, his stomach felt like lead. If they assumed Lisbon and her abductors were operating on pacific time, nightfall would be within three hours. Less if they’d moved east.

If there wasn’t a solid lead within three hours, Lisbon would lose her finger. Jane could not be responsible for that.

Something was nagging at him, something obvious.

Jane was undoubtedly distracted. His attention kept drifting either to her picture, that brace face, or to the bio someone had written up for her. Chief of Police was a prestigious position, but in a small town like Canon River, Jane knew she was selling herself short. She’d bought a small house, with a master bedroom and a guest room but no room for expansion. Unmarried and with no listed significant other, there was little evidence she’d planned for a future.

His happiness at that was incredibly selfish. One of his nightmares on the island had been Teresa marrying another man (usually played by Walter Mashburn) and discarding his letters immediately so her husband wouldn’t see. He would have never been able to know.

These musings were not helping her. Jane shut his eyes, shunted those thoughts to the back of his mind, and when he opened them again vowed only to concentrate on the pertinent facts.

Suspects: immediately his instinct was to discard Jason Cooper. The man hadn’t been incarcerated long and would be doing well for himself after Visualize. Linus Wagner… He’d made a deal with Lisbon for life in prison rather than the needle. While it was possible he wanted his cake etc., Jane imagined he’d avoid jeopardizing his life by crossing the woman who made it possible.

Culpepper, Haibach, and Hutten… All three were sociopathic with very real grudges against both Lisbon and himself. Although Lisbon had punched Culpepper in the noise to get his case dropped. She must be in his good graces, if he kept track. In any case, Culpepper’d always been a hired hand and a thief, he never went after anyone personally. This didn’t fit his MO.

So, two good suspects, Haibach and Hutten. He’d tell Cho in a minute. There was something else. It had to be obvious, why else would he keep missing it.

The tapped phones. What was the purpose? There was no indication in the email that the rest of the Serious Crimes team was in danger. Only Lisbon and himself. He didn’t have a phone…

_“I’ll miss you,” He’d murmured through his tight throat. He tossed the cell into the nearest trashcan and ran, ran until he couldn’t stop._

Right. Then were the phone traces solely to surveil Lisbon? Gain insight into her through people in her life?

Then why tap Ardilles?

A sickening thought occurred to him, and Jane pulled out his brand new FBI burner phone. He punched in the number on the page in front of him and waited.

“Ardilles speaking,” The lawyer answered impeccably.

“Hey there Oscar, it’s Jane!” He greeted. Static came down the line. “Patrick Jane, from the CBI?”

“I remember you,” Ardilles snapped, indicating a strong desire to have forgotten. “What the hell are you doing calling me? If you’re looking for a defense attorney, Jane, you have a lot of—“

“The FBI’s contacted you about Lisbon,” Jane interrupted.

Hesitantly the answer came, “Yes, they told me about my phone, is that why—“

“I need to know two things. Number one, did you prosecute a Richard Haibach or John Hutten at the CBI?”

Ardilles considered this, as Jane tapped his fingers. “Hutten yes, I negotiated the deal wherein he gave up his partners in the bank robberies. Haibach was placed on my docket but it never got to arraignment, the case was thrown out for lack of evidence. He was the one with some suggestive pictures of children, right, but nothing explicit?”

“That’s him,” Jane replied, mind working independently. Interesting. “Second question, did you and Lisbon ever date?”

“Excuse me?” Ardilles said with genuine shock. Through his relief, Jane couldn’t help feeling defensive of Teresa. Someone who wore _tasseled loafers_ would have been lucky to date a gem like Lisbon. “No, the last time we spoke was over a year ago, and I assure you it was professional, not personal.”

A year ago? “What do you mean?”

“Lisbon needed a positive reference from her previous job to land Chief of Police. Obviously her last few bosses were dead or disgraced, or both, so she asked me. Of course I was happy to, Lisbon always was an exemplary—“ With shaking fingers Jane hung up the phone.

That confirmed it. Ardilles had been the first step, they’d used him to discover Lisbon’s general whereabouts. As they grew bolder they would have bugged Cho, but from what Jane surmised that would have been a dead end. Grace and Wayne would have given them her precise address, and a pattern of when Lisbon would have company versus be alone and vulnerable.

This was about revenge against Lisbon. Their anger was focused on her alone, which made their threats far more real.

He imagined Lisbon without her finger and shivered. He’d already witnessed that horror enough for…

Patrick Jane was a goddamn idiot.

“It’s Haibach!” He cried, running back into the bullpen and looking for Cho. “Damn, where’s Cho?”

“Uh, excuse me?” Jane looked at Wylie, the shy FBI tech guy. “Cho and Fischer are chasing down Hutten, apparently he’s been slipping out of his ankle—“

“It’s not him,” Jane insisted, “It’s Haibach. He got his thumb cut off because of me, that’s why he’s threatening to take her fingers. It’s not just a measure of time, that’s his revenge, against the both of us.”

“Uh, both of you?”

“She let it happen back then, and now I have to watch it happen to her, that’s our punishment.” Jane advanced on him. “We need to identify all of the places he’d hide. Childhood haunts, old houses, offices, anywhere he’d feel safe.”

“Jane.” He turned at the sharp tone. It was Abbott. His stance was protective, and Jane wondered why until he glanced back at Wylie. The young man was practically cowering, eyes wide. Abruptly Jane realized how manic he must appear. That wouldn’t help, so Jane worked to calm himself. Abbott spoke in an equally soothing tone. “That’s a lot of manpower to throw behind one hunch. Are you sure?”

Was he? Jane hesitated. It all fit in his mind. It wasn’t based on anything Lisbon would call ‘hard evidence’. Usually he’d say he was eighty-five to ninety percent certain. Was that good enough with Lisbon at stake?

“Cho is on Hutten?” Abbott confirmed this. “If he calls, we abandon Haibach, but for now I say we move on Haibach’s locations. Get local police to check them first. We can’t waste time.” He glanced involuntarily at the clock. Almost dusk on the west coast.

“These kidnappers are asking for you, Jane,” Abbott reminded him, “Not local PD.”

Jane held out his arms. “Release me then, and if I manage to find Lisbon, I’ll report back, scout’s honor.”

“Setting aside the fact that you are a fugitive in my custody for _one_ moment, I would not let any single person step into an unknown situation like this, especially one without any weapons or special training.”

“You could give me a gun—“

“ _No_. We follow protocol on this, and that means you stay in this building unless accompanied by my people. I am not giving these maniacs another hostage.”

A call came on Abbott’s cell, and the agent moved away to take it. Jane focussed on Wylie once more, but the tech said, “Haibach’s childhood haunts, houses, and offices, right? On it.”

“Thank you,” Jane told him, and the young man’s fair complexion betrayed his blush. The tense set of Abbott’s shoulder’s drew Jane’s attention back, and he withheld his question until Abbott tersely ended the call. “Well?”

“Haibach’s workplace says he took two weeks off to visit with family. He has no alibi for Monday, and we don’t know where he is now.” His grimace smoothed with effort. “Wylie—“

“Already on it, boss,” The tech said, hands skittering over his keyboard like mice.

Leaning in so he could speak more quietly, Abbott told Jane, “Looks like you were right.” The praise was meaningless, and Jane gazed at the monitors. They now displayed the last picture from her CBI badge next to the counter. She still had bangs in that photo.

Twelve hours and counting.

 

* * *

 

Lisbon remembered this street. She remembered this house. She’d stood outside these double doors for longer than she meant to, contemplating whether to force Haibach to let her inside. At the time, all she’d had to go on was a feeling, the sort of feeling she’d get as a 13 year old girl watching out for older men who might be watching back.

This time there was no forcing herself inside. Hazel Haibach marched her through the entry with a gun at her back.

The house itself was empty, and it’s last inhabitants had cleared out much of the old victorian furnishings. Lisbon knelt on the dusty floor as Haibach tore through his old house.

“Here, in here,” He dragged her up, stumbling, and pushed her into the room she shuddered to recall. The darkroom had been dismantled, however the door still had a bolt lock on the outside. She heard it click, leaving her alone. With Haibach.

“What are we doing here, Richard?” Lisbon asked him quietly. She’d lost her anger after getting the officer killed. Instead she’d devoted herself to survival techniques. Bonding with her captor was plan A, and beyond using his first name and a meek tone, she couldn’t think how to go about it.

“You thought I hurt the girls in this neighborhood,” Haibach told her matter-of-factly. “I never did. I took their pictures, I watched them, but I never hurt them.” More quietly, she had to strain to hear him, he said, “It didn’t hurt.”

“Are we staying here, Richard? For good? No more driving in your truck?” God she hoped so. If they were sedentary that meant the authorities could track them. And she was tired of flinching at every bump in the road, thinking Hazel’s trigger discipline wouldn’t hold up.

“No, we’re only stopping for tonight.” Lisbon nodded, surveying the room. There was a window, high on the wall. It had been blacked out before but now daylight filtered in through the dust. “We need to leave clues for Patrick after all.” Her cramped neck snapped as she turned to him so fast.

“Patrick Jane? I tried to tell you, he can’t come for me.” Last night (was it only last night?) after recording the video, Lisbon had argued that their demands were impossible. She’d been slapped silent.

“You’re very good incentive, Teresa,” Haibach told her in all seriousness, and it made her stomach turn. “Jane has no choice if he wants to keep you alive.”

“He isn’t in the U.S. and he will have no way of knowing you have me.”

“You’re in contact—“

“No, we’re not.” Lisbon hesitated, then realized there was no risk in saying, “He can write to me, but I have no return address to reply with. Jane never hears anything from me so my absence won’t make a difference.” She was suddenly struck by the image of letters piling up month after month on her door mat, their sender completely and blissfully unaware that the recipient was dead. Jane himself had expressed similar fears.

 

> _Dear Lisbon,_
> 
> _Our lives are so strange now, aren’t they? I could have never pictured myself wiling endless days on a beach. I’d imagined I’d be spending them in a room without windows, if I was lucky._
> 
> _I don’t know what your life is like now. This is the problem with not providing an address. I probably shouldn’t know. I’m already filled with guilt._
> 
> _I want to apologize for the way things ended. No matter the rewards, I know my actions cost you your job. You lived for your job, and excelled at it, and I hate that I managed to take that from you. Please believe that I wish there had been another way. If I could, I would always choose to spare you pain. Unfortunately I seem to be very bad at it._
> 
> _I can only hope that in your new life you have the accolades you deserve. No, more than that, I want you to be happy. If I’m to miss you every day, that’s my only consolation._
> 
> _Be well, my dear Lisbon,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

“No, no,” Haibach insisted, mostly to himself, “The FBI will bring him back. He’s their only chance of getting you alive.”

Lisbon seized on this. “You’ve never dealt with the FBI before, Richard, but I have. No matter if the FBI could track down his foreign hideout, they would never absolve Jane of his crimes, and Jane wouldn’t come back without some security. If you and your sister are planning an exit strategy, you should cooperate with the FBI and not hold out on Jane.”

“Exit—“ Haibach froze at the knock which echoed throughout the house. Slowly he crept to the window and peered out. He huffed, “What is it with you goddamn cops, why can’t you leave me alone?” Equal parts elation and trepidation plagued Lisbon. She didn’t want another death on her hands. “Hazel can deal with them, oh look there she goes now.” He mimicked a high voice, “‘A Richard Haibach? No there’s no one at this address… oh you must mean the previous tenant! Yes I still get some of his mail.’” He paused for effect. “‘Alrighty, if I hear anything I’ll call you boys. Stay safe out there!’” Drawing away from the window he made a face, and Lisbon had an idea.

“Hazel’s older than you?” Absently he nodded. “I’m older than my brothers too. There’s always a golden child, right? Sometimes there isn’t enough attention to go around.” She’d gained his, though she didn’t think his intense stare boded well. No, Haibach crossed the room and backhanded her across the face. Lisbon didn’t flinch, just shifted her jaw and was pleased nothing came loose.

There’d always been enough of that to go around.

“Don’t talk about us like that,” Haibach warned her. “You don’t know us. You don’t know _me_ at all.”

“Richard, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t acknowledge her. “Those cops will realize somethings up. We need to get back on the road after all. Congratulations, Teresa, you’re keeping your finger for another few miles at least.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as the plane touched down, Grace was taking her phone out of airplane mode and checking her messages. 10:23 PM local time, and she had eight voicemails. The majority were from Cho, one was from Sarah’s house, and the latest was from an unknown number. As Wayne got their bag from the overhead and ushered her off the plane, Grace listened to the most recent message.

“ _Grace, it’s Jane_.” The voice was gravelly but still recognizably him, and Grace allowed herself a smile. The circumstances were far from ideal, but she had missed her old friend. “ _I know who has her. It’s Richard Haibach, the pedophile she arrested but couldn’t convict._ ” She shuddered. She could still picture that guy. It was very plausible. “ _I have the FBI looking into him but I need your help. Call me as soon as you land. Don’t wait for your FBI escort._ ”

“Hey,” Grace said, pulling Wayne to a halt, “I need to use the restroom. Can you call Cho back while I do?” Her husband had grown more perceptive over the years. He glanced at the phone in her hand curiously. Grace shrugged, but implored him with her eyes not to ask questions just then.

He said, “Yeah, of course, do what you gotta do.” Grace took off and hit redial outside the restroom.

“Grace, good,” Jane answered immediately, “How are you?”

“We’re fine, Jane. It’s good to hear from you.”

“Yeah, good to hear you too.” It was the wrong time to be catching up, and he moved swiftly along. He spoke again in an undertone, as if they were conspiring, immediately taking Grace back in time. “I need you to look into Hazel Haibach. It’s his sister. I think she’s the accomplice, but I haven’t shared that with the FBI. All they know so far is she has a stable job and is for all appearances well adjusted, and I want them to think that for as long as possible.”

“They’re trying to find Teresa, any particular reason why we’re keeping secrets?”

“Haibach planned this abduction to lure me out of hiding, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. The more he thinks he’s in control, the less likely it is that he’ll hurt her.”

Okay, Grace could understand that. “What do you need me to do?”

“The FBI is putting you up in a motel. Beg off going into the office, say you need to sleep. When you’re alone, find out any property owned or rented by Hazel Haibach. I’ll come to you. Oh, and make sure Rigsby gets a room key.”

After a quick goodbye, Grace strode determinedly back out. Wayne had found their FBI escort and was chatting. Putting on her best act, Grace slowed her pace as she neared them and leaned heavily on her husband.

“Hi there,” She addressed the agent, “I’m so sorry, but can we adjust the plan? We got a call on the plane from our sitter so I need to check on our kids. Could you possibly drop me off at our motel and give my husband a ride to Headquarters?” This was agreed to, and the Rigsbys rode in tense silence. There were no lies between them. There never needed to be; they always understood each other.

When Grace came back from the motel’s office with their two keys, Wayne took his and asked, “Do you need me with you?” It was touching that he’d asked; not the offer for backup, that was implied after this long, but that he offered her the choice to decline.

“I’ll be fine,” Grace told him with a kiss, “I promise. Go coordinate with the FBI, we’ll talk later.” The agent drove off, taking her husband away. Grace watched until they turned a corner and the red brake lights disappeared. Then she got to work.

 

* * *

 

There hadn’t been a video. Cho had expected a video at pacific sundown, but that was hours ago. He’d been preparing for the sight of Lisbon holding a bloody hand. The uncertainty made him… emotional.

When he and Fischer had returned from Hutten’s mistress’ place, he’d thrown the useless ankle monitor at the incompetent agent responsible and informed him of his upcoming censure. At least that’s what he hoped he said in between swearing. Abbott’s tolerance would wear out soon, but so far Cho only received a quiet warning.

Waiting wasn’t any easier on Jane. Since deducing their best suspect was Haibach, he and Wylie had compiled a list of about 20 possible locations. Some were former residences of Haibach or his family, others belonged to known associates. Jane hung on every report from local law enforcement as they came in.

The most promising development came when Jane asked to learn more about Haibach’s father. After reading a few drunk and disorderly reports, Jane concluded Richard would have sought a safe space away from his likely abusive father. Somewhere in town may have stuck in his psyche. Cho had instructed the town’s PD to instigate a thorough search. After a nerve-wracking hour, they turned up nothing, like every other reporting office.

They dismissed every place with current residents, or those that had undergone radical change. Vacant locations Haibach could still be attached to were placed under surveillance. They could still be on the move.

“Still nothing,” Jane asked, returning to Cho’s side. He’d disappeared back into the fishbowl a little while ago.

“No video,” Cho said, then added, “It’s a good thing.”

“Yes, but it’s unusual.” The inner working of Jane’s mind were often a mystery, but Cho could see him thinking furiously. When he spoke it was slowly, testing out the words. “Maybe they had to change plans. The conditions for cutting off a finger are very specific. You need privacy, sound proofing, and time.”

“To make that threat and follow through he’d need to have a location like that in mind.”

“Several, I’d bet. Avoiding public transit, there are plenty of viable hideouts within driving distance. He should have picked one by now.” Jane’s eyes began to gleam and pick up speed, as if reading something only he could see. “Unless…”

Cho prompted, “Unless?”

“We spooked him. That has to be it.” He came back into the real world and met Cho’s gaze. “We chose hideouts in Oregon, California, Nevada, and Colorado?”

“Yes.” In addition to others. Being unable to hold a steady job for long meant Haibach had relocated often.

“I need to go over those reports in detail. Colorado may be too far.” He started for the fishbowl, saying, “Let me know when—“

“Mr. Jane!” Wylie called over. Both Jane and Cho moved to his side immediately. “You wanted me to monitor police blotters in the region and there’s something I thought you should see.”

At Cho’s questioning glance, Jane explained, “I figured Haibach’s already committed one big crime, he may be inclined to commit smaller ones to cover himself. It’s a common mistake. Go on, Wylie.”

“None of the robberies reported sound promising, but there were 7 unexplained deaths, one of which was a highway patrolman on I-5 two hours north of Sacramento.”

Cho beat Jane to the punch, “That might be him. Get us the details.” The two old friends faced each other, their minds in agreement. “It’s confirmation they’re going by car.”

“He wanted to take her where this all began. He met Lisbon in Fresno. But if they’d stayed there, they’d have had plenty of time by now. I think he was forced to abandon the original plan and keep moving.”

A very weary voice joined them, “Hey, we got new developments?” They looked over to see Rigsby enter, alone. Jane stepped up and gave him a tight hug, and, startled, Wayne returned it. “Jane, you’ve got no idea how glad I am to see you.”

“Thank you, Rigsby,” He replied, releasing the taller man, “Where’s Grace?”

Though Jane had asked, Rigsby addressed Cho. “She had to stop at the motel and check in on the kids. Said she’d call me later.”

“Kids?” Jane repeated, a little shock coloring the word.

Wayne smiled. “I forgot you wouldn’t know. You remember Ben, but Grace and I had Maddie six months ago. Right now they’re both staying with Ben’s mother until we can bring Boss home.”

Cho watched Jane surreptitiously. The mention of children had always rattled the man, and combined with the reminder of Lisbon’s absence, the effect was more pronounced than ever.

It wasn’t a surprise when Jane stepped away saying, “Ah, yes, to answer your first question, there have been a few developments. Cho can fill you in, I’ve just realized I haven’t eaten anything in… well, since coming into FBI custody.”

“We could send out for something.”

“No, no, I…” Jane’s attention drifted back to the monitor. Sixteen hours and change.

“Agent Fischer,” Cho called out, and Kim stood from her desk, “What are you on right now?”

“Interviewing people Haibach may be close to. I finally found a number for his sister and was about to call her.”

“Take half an hour, escort Jane out for some dinner.” To Jane, Cho added in an undertone, “Get some air and play nice. I want you back here with a clear head.”

Something about the avid way Jane focused on Fischer gave Cho a bad feeling. “You got it, Ice Man.”

 

* * *

 

Her body needed sleep.

It was two nights since she’d laid in her own bed. A day and a half then since she’d had a decent meal. The Haibachs were sustaining her on gas station beef jerky and soda. It disgusted her, but Lisbon knew eating it was the only way to keep her strength up.

Hazel had allowed her piss off the side of the road, watching her the whole time and keeping her gun ready, as Richard tapped the wheel of the car impatiently. Abductions were full of little indignities.

As for sleep, it went against her nature to let down her guard. However, her body betrayed her, and as the three sat in silence, and darkness pressed in, sleep kept reclaiming her in short bursts. It was hard to know how long she slept each time, because the interior of the car never changed.

She knew when they left California, had woken at precisely the right moment to watch the sign pass by. After that, the terrain was strictly barren, and she ran out of landmarks. In her fanciful moments of exhaustion, Lisbon wondered if they’d been driving for days now, and she kept missing the sun.

But no. She still had all her fingers.

When there came the need to calm down and focus, keep her mind from going loopy, and forestall the fear, she recited one of Patrick’s letters. It had been a ritual for lonely nights, and so habit made finding respite easy.

 

> _Dear Lisbon,_
> 
> _I’m wistful today. Well, more wistful than usual. I try to save the letter writing for days when I feel cheerful, but I’m making an exception today._
> 
> _Not too many folks come to my beach. I can’t give you too many identifying details, so take my word for it, it’s out of the way. Today there was a family of four going past as I swam. The water is still cold, by the way, but I find it bracing._
> 
> _Anyway, this family had dark hair and tanned complexions and looked utterly happy. The parents were holding hands as they followed their two daughters. One was sixish, the other a preteen. The youngest girl was so bright and giggly, she reminded me of Charlotte instantly. Thinking of my daughter will never not bring me pain, I’ve accepted this. Some days I can see a young child and not be overcome, and those days are coming more frequently, I’m glad to say. Days like today blindside me with how much I miss them._
> 
> _The older girl had long, straight chestnut hair, and her gaze never left her sibling. She reminded me of you. I’ve often wondered about the young Teresa I never got to meet. So unflinchingly strong and protective and brave. You were and are magnificent, my dear. As much as I wished you could have been shielded back then, I would never wish to change the person you became._
> 
> _Do you think you’ll have children?_
> 
> _Forgive me. As I said, I’m wistful today. I hope this letter finds you well, and that the thoughts within have not disturbed that. I miss you, in case that hasn’t been clear._
> 
> _Your silly wayward man,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

This time when she woke, there were noises in the car. Hazel and Richard were bickering. They’d switched positions a while ago so Hazel could drive. Lisbon kept her eyes closed as she listened.

“We can’t waste time,” Richard insisted, “We can’t back down from our deadlines. They need to see this ASAP, or they won’t believe we’re serious.”

“I’d need to find a place with Wifi,” Hazel retorted, “The software is autonomous but it’s email, Richard, it can’t be sent from a moving car.”

“There’s got to be somewhere up ahead with internet.”

“If we could’ve done it before leaving California—“

“They were on to us.”

“I promise you those cops believed me.”

“Oh yeah, right. They were going to be back. We couldn’t do it there.”

“If you’re sure it needs to be sent tonight—”

“Yes, Hazel, God, how often do I need to say it!”

“Don’t snap at me, mister.” There passed something between them that Lisbon couldn’t read with her eyes shut.

Mumbling and contrite, “Sorry.”

“We’ll need to find somewhere to stop. I can go in if you keep watch. It’s risky.”

“No one’s going to prowl around a parking lot this late. It’ll be fine.”

They were going to stop somewhere? Lisbon hadn’t been given an opportunity to be around people since the police officer. If she could only…

Sleep took hold once more.

 

* * *

 

“What would you like to eat?” Kim Fischer solicitously asked as she pulled out of the FBI parking lot.

He stared out the passenger side window, mind elsewhere. “Oh take me wherever you like to go.” If this bothered her she didn’t let it show, merely adjusted her course. The venue, Jane had decided, was not important. The Mexican restaurant she chose felt very familiar, and he’d have time to wonder later if she was being genuine or putting him at ease. Despite the agent’s protests that she wasn’t hungry, Jane ordered food for the both of them in spanish.

“You’re fluent?” Kim inquired politely.

He dipped his head, “The folks on the island would disagree. My accent is apparently malísimo.”

“It’s still impressive,” She complimented. His initial assessment of her character was holding up well.

“Let me guess,” He started, watching her carefully, “You took multiple courses in Spanish, French, and… Mandarin? Yet the words always come out a little clunky and slow, and because you see this as a failure, you don’t like to speak them. Unfortunately we can only achieve that fluent flow you’re aiming for the more we practice, especially in the awkward stage.”

Jane knew very well the series of expressions flitting over her face: shock, amazement, suspicion… “How did you get all that?”

“You read my file.”

She didn’t deny it. “That was a cold reading?”

“Yes it was. I can get a lot from your posture, mannerisms, tone, etc.. Would you like another demonstration?” Kim’s mouth opened but Jane forged ahead first. “You grew up around Virginia, to parents who worked hard to give you the education they’d lacked. Because of that perceived debt, you pursued the most demanding career you could conceive, and proximity lead you to Quantico. You affect an ambitious, cold veneer that you believe to be necessary for respect, but in reality you are gentle and wistful and don’t see the point in advancing your career now that you’re settled.”

“That’s not true.”

“You’re doing it now, the brittle FBI shell. You can be honest with me.” He grinned suddenly. “I know you read those paperbacks where the duchess abandons her estate to elope with the stable boy.”

“I do _not_ ,” Kim let out a choked laugh that utterly betrayed her. “You’ve known me one day, don’t hang anything on those assumptions, all right?”

Jane sniffed, “Fine, if you want to go on pretending. It’s okay to crave love in your life, Kim, we all do.”

She leaned forward, and he predicted she’d be diverting the conversation. “Speaking of, I’ve been curious. Everyone is acting like your return to the States to help find Chief Lisbon is normal.” In spite of himself, Jane felt himself tense, his features tightening. “I don’t mean to sound heartless,” She said, intending that very thing, “But I can’t picture a man facing life in prison giving himself up for any old friendship. So I’ve been meaning to ask, were you and Lisbon ever involved?”

The question had been asked in various iterations for years. His answer was always honest. “No, not the way you’re implying.” There was no way to explain the subtleties of his relationship with Lisbon. Following his family’s deaths, she was the first person he’d voluntarily opened up to, the first one he trusted with everything, his first dance, his first…

 _“Love you,” He murmured, breath coming fast, staring at Teresa’s bright green eyes steeling herself for the_ bang _._

“Then what were you?” Kim persisted. Meeting her gaze, Jane made himself appear pensive.

“We may need to order a drink,” He said instead, “How do you feel about margaritas?”

She blinked, “I’m on the clock.”

“Well, I’m not sharing the sordid details of my romantic past without tequila, so…” Her pupils dilated and he knew he had her. Secret romantics were so pliable if given the right incentive. Smiling, Jane brushed past the defeated Fischer to the bar.

Once there, he surveyed the bartender. Lean, macho, Mexican-American, always hoping his job would earn him women but lacking the looks to reel them in; he was a perfect mark. After motioning to order, Jane made a show of casually glancing over his shoulder at Kim sitting alone. As planned, when the bartender ambled over, his attention was drawn to her.

“A margarita for my _friend_ ,” Jane said, putting bitterness into the word. The man picked up on it, intrigued but remaining polite, for now.

“And for you, señor?”

Jane waved him off, “No thanks, I can’t take much more of this.” The bartender prepared the margarita close enough for Jane to continue, as if musing to himself, “Women are so confusing. It doesn’t help that they don’t know what they want. Kim there says she want a sensitive guy, but…”

“What she really needs is an alpha male?” The bartender surmised, casting a critical eye over Jane’s clothing. The floral shirt was really pulling its weight in this con. Jane merely had to chuckle ruefully to sell it.

“I guess so, man.” With the margarita put in front of him, Jane paid and said, “Look, I’m tired of striking out tonight. Any chance you could go over and entertain her while I slip away?”

“Seriously?” He gave poor Fischer another thorough once over. “It would be a hardship, but for you, amigo, no problem.” The bartender smirked. Internally Jane apologized to the agent, but didn’t feel too badly. There was more at stake than her pride.

Leaning in to foster conspiracy, Jane whispered, “Do you have a back way out of here?” The bartender pointed through the kitchen, and Jane clapped him on the shoulder. “Muchas gracias.” When the bartender carried Fischer’s drink out to her, Jane darted through the kitchen and out into the Austin night air.

As he hurried to Fischer’s SUV, Jane pat his pockets. He took inventory: his new cell phone, Rigsby’s motel card, and Fischer’s car keys.

Time to run from the FBI. Again.

 

* * *

 

Supervisory Agent Abbott seethed as he listened to his agent’s report. It wasn’t her fault. He’d worked with Agent Fischer for several months and knew her to be competent in almost every situation. Unfortunately he hadn’t adequately prepared her for Patrick Jane.

“Once I found the car missing, I realized Jane must’ve lifted my keys,” Fischer explained, no less angry than himself. “That was when I called in and requested pick up. I dropped the ball, sir, I know that. I’ll take whatever censure you give me.”

“Patrick Jane is a brilliant, twisted genius,” Abbott told her. “Everything he did was to manipulate you. He set you at ease by having you pick the restaurant, riled you up, and distracted you. Even when you think you’re in control, you’re playing right into his hands.”

She confessed, desperate in her confusion, “I was sure that with Lisbon on the line, Jane would behave.”

“Jane doesn’t trust us to find her, he doesn’t trust anyone but himself.” Actually, that Abbott wasn’t so sure about. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his chin. “Would you call in Cho and Rigsby for me.” Fischer was barely out of her chair when Cho rapped sharply on the door. “Ah, never mind,” He muttered, then raised his voice, “Come in!”

Cho barreled into the room, saying, “Sir, we have something.”

“Your ears must have been burning, Kimball,” Abbott said, feeling his agent be thrown off by his first name, “I need to speak with you and Rigsby. It seems Patrick Jane has run off again. Do you or your former colleague know anything about this?”

“No,” Cho answered shortly.

Abbott narrowed his eyes, and said very clearly, “You don’t seem particularly bothered by losing a fugitive under your command.”

“No, because we have a bigger problem.” The confidence in that statement, the utmost seriousness of it, made Abbott sit at attention.

“What is it?”

“We just got another video.” All three agents fled the room to flock to the bullpen. Wayne Rigsby paced anxiously behind the data analyst. Wylie waved them over, and Abbott peered down at his monitor.

The video began, as the last one had, with a shot of Lisbon’s face. Only this time she was unconscious or, he hoped, asleep. Moonlight partially illuminated her face. She had a very faint bruise over her left cheekbone. The video was shakier than before and there was a rumble of an engine; they were in a car.

The end of a gun eased into frame, and the agents unanimously tensed. Judging by the angle it was being held by the same person who held the camera. All it did was point at her, jostled by the bumps in the road.

“Where are you, Patrick?” The pitch-shifted voice asked. “Are you having the cops do your dirty work? That’s not fair to Teresa. Tomorrow morning she’s going to lose a finger and it’s your fault. I’ll save it for you if you like. I can be kind.” With the gun, he nudged her hand, the little finger bandaged poorly at the knuckle. “When you’re too late to save her, I’ll let you keep her pinky.”

The video ended and the agents shared a look. “Jane was right,” Cho spoke first, “We spooked him. They had to push the deadline to tomorrow morning so they have enough time to get to their next hideout.”

“The email itself,” Rigsby asked, familiar with cyber crimes, “Can we trace it’s origins?”

Wylie explained, “It’s gonna take time, they bounced it around a couple different IPs. Whoever wrote this code knows their stuff.” Rigsby nodded, continuing to pace.

Abbott glanced down at the tech. “It was shot in a car, can we use any landmarks to determine where they are?”

He didn’t look hopeful, but Wylie obediently started going frame by frame. “For the most part you can’t see a window,” He explained, “And I looked for shadows passing, but there were none.”

“That tells us something,” Fischer broke in. “No street lamps, no buildings, no trees…”

“There!” Wylie stopped on a frame. The car had bounced, and a sliver of the window above Lisbon’s listless head could be seen. Tan rocks and sand shimmered in the dark.

“Desert,” Cho said, a note of satisfaction creeping in.

“Now we know they went south,” Abbot surmised, “My best guess is California, Nevada, or Arizona. Let’s reexamine the locations we identified in those states. We know they’re still on the move, but maybe we get lucky.” He clapped Wylie on the shoulder and addressed the whole team, “Good work people. Now, next order of business: where the hell is Patrick Jane?”

 

* * *

 

The door clicked open, and Grace whirled around, only to sigh at the long forgotten sight of Patrick Jane’s affected innocence routine. “You could have knocked.”

“That would defeat the purpose of lifting Rigsby’s key card,” Jane shrugged. Despite the difficult circumstances, he seemed to take a moment to look her over. Grace straightened a little and waited for the inevitable assessment. “You look good, Grace. Civilian life suits you. I heard you’re a mother, congratulations.”

“Thanks, Jane. I’d say something similar, but to be honest, you look a mess.” He chuckled a little and didn’t contest it. She glanced down at her laptop. “I need one more minute to double check something.” Settling on the bed once more, fingers flying over the keyboard, she felt Jane move in behind her.

“What have you got so far?”

“Hazel Haibach works for an electronics company specializing in home security.”

“Perfect. I’m assuming she’d know enough to send the email and tap the phones?”

“Yeah, although I don’t think rigged shotguns are considered ‘home security’ nowadays.” The last file she needed finished downloading, and Grace scanned it quickly. “She rents one condo in Silicon Valley, close to where her company is located.” Reading further, the final piece of the puzzle slotted together, and Grace grinned in victory. “Aha! She owns a cabin in New Mexico, in the Sangre de Cristo mountains.”

“Blood of Christ,” Jane translated in a murmur, “Poetic.” As Grace watched, he appeared to struggle with something internally. Maybe he wasn’t sold.

She spoke in a tone she hoped would convince him. “It would be isolated and remote, the perfect place to keep someone hostage.” He stared at her, and she knew when he settled on a decision, could see it on his face.

“Let’s move out, as they say,” Jane said, not waiting for her as he sped out the door. When he was set, he was set. She bundled her laptop, Glock, and phone into her bag and raced out to meet him. The SUV idled in the parking lot, and Grace threw herself into the passenger seat.

“Head west,” She instructed him quickly.

“Gotcha,” Jane complied, practically peeling out, the engine roaring. She directed him out of Austin, words sparse and purposeful. It was when they hit the first long stretch of highway that Grace relaxed.

“I should call Wayne,” She said softly, the first personal opening all evening.

“You can’t,” Jane said, “If he slips it to the FBI, they’ll be out in a helicopter and completely undermine my plan.”

“The plan you haven’t shared with me, you mean? Jane, it feels like all you’re doing is delaying the Fed’s progress and putting yourself in danger. How is this going to help her?”

“Picture if you will, a defensible cabin hideout in the mountains. It will be silent for miles around. Imagine Haibach with Lisbon, waiting for me so he can have his revenge. Now think of how he’d react if he heard choppers flying overhead and a whole squadron of FBI vehicles traipsing down the path.”

Grace deflated, “You think he’s volatile enough to kill her as a last resort.”

“Definitely.” He pressed the accelerator harder. “All we need is a head start. I’m counting on the FBI catching up, I just need to be there first to defuse the situation.”

“Defuse it?” Grace laughed. “That was never your strong suit. You’re incendiary, Jane.” The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t reply. “I won’t tell him anything, but I need to at least text Wayne so that he won’t worry.”

He put on a sigh, “The shackles of married life. Go ahead.”

Grace typed out, _All good. Stay there. Love you_. Then she silenced her phone and tossed it back in the bag. She was sure there’d be a flurry of responses.

“If I were a good man,” Jane said slowly, capturing her attention, “I would take your bag and force you out of the car.”

She gaped at him. “Where did that come from?”

“You know I care about you, Van Pelt,” Jane began, “I don’t want to put you in danger. You have a family now and I shouldn’t ask you to jeopardize that.” Sympathy made Grace melt. She knew where Jane was coming from, of course, and she respected that he felt comfortable sharing his concerns. However, he’d missed several vital points.

“You aren’t asking me,” She said gently, “I’m doing this for my best friend. Aside from my husband, Teresa is the best thing that’s happened to me.” She saw him smile, knowing he felt the same. “Saving people is a part of my life, even if I don’t officially work in law enforcement anymore. I couldn’t let you go without some backup and I don’t think you’d have any success forcing me out of the car at this point.”

“And like I said, I’m not a better man.” He took his eyes off the road to look at her. It was clear he was purposefully allowing her to read him. She could see his appreciation and affection and matched it with her own.

“Besides,” Grace added, settling back in her seat and shutting her eyes, “It’s an 11 hour drive to the mountains. We’re going to need to trade off.”

 

* * *

 

Dawn cast all the snow in a pink light. Objectively this was the most beautiful place Lisbon had ever been taken to involuntarily.

Actually, that last sunset overlook with Jane would fit that description.

Lisbon was aware that her mind wasn’t thinking very clearly. She’d lost focus in many ways. When she was clear headed, she attributed this to dehydration and stress. Over 24 hours she’d been with these people now. Two nights, so what was that? Approaching 36? If they didn’t stop with the soft drinks and give her some actual water, she wasn’t going to be much use coming up with an escape.

She had thought about it. She’d thought of little else, except Jane, and wondering how Grace and Wayne would react to hearing the news. All her plans were contingent on getting the handcuffs off. There was little she could do without freedom of motion, especially now that she may need to scale down a cliff.

When she thought the siblings weren’t paying close attention, Lisbon cast her gaze to anything within reach. Contrary to her hopes, the back of the truck was clean: no bobby pins, paper clips, or wire. Nothing she could pick the lock with.

In the cup holder there was an empty soda can. Lisbon thought she might be able to fashion a shim out of the pop tab. Ripping it off would be too noticeable though. For now she could only bide her time.

She stared out the window and recalled one of Jane’s earliest letters. She’d been working steadily through them. Over almost two years, she had nearly 30. At first he’d spaced them out, but they came once every two weeks nowadays.

 

> _Dear Lisbon,_
> 
> _I’m still working out what to say in these. I hope you’re well. I miss you._
> 
> _Is it alright to talk about the weather? I’ve burned a lot in the sun here. Not too much fair skin here so not much sunscreen. One of my neighbors has taken pity on me and shared her homemade recipe. It’s thick like paste but gets the job done._
> 
> _There’s not a lot to fill my days. Each one is basically the same. I eat breakfast. I run errands. I have dinner. I sleep. It’s quiet. Peaceful. I do a lot of thinking._
> 
> _That’s what being here is for, aside from the obvious. I’m putting my old life, or lives, behind me. I didn’t realize how much I failed to grieve, but there are entire days where I do little else. And then there are days when I am happy, with nothing blotting the horizon._
> 
> _I realized I misspoke (miswrote? not sure) earlier. When I say I’m putting that life behind me, I don’t mean you. I know how you worry, and I hate myself for so often being the cause. So for that reason and many others, I will continue to write you. I wronged you too many times in my quest. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you as best I can._
> 
> _Until next time my dear,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

What a foolish man. If his letters were merely so she’d know he was alive, Lisbon hardly wanted them. Or needed them. Faith had let her know. Every time she sent a prayer for his safety and happiness, she would read it reflected in his next letter. Her faith told her that, if harm did come to Patrick Jane, she’d feel it.

Jane wouldn’t. He never believed in that sort of thing. So she knew that if he did manage to feel a pang of worry, lying on his beach or in his cramped room, Jane would dismiss it. He may never find out what Haibach did to her.

No, Lisbon resolved then with striking clarity. She wasn’t going to allow them to kill her. She was getting that shim and breaking the cuffs.

Enough time passes for the light to shift from pink to orange to clear radiant sunlight. Finally they parked off the side of a road coated in fresh snow. Lisbon peered out the window. There was a single story wooden cabin with a porch, covered and surrounded by thick snow. Calling it a house would be too generous, a shack too harsh.

“It looks good, Hazel,” Richard said. “Let’s go.”

He got out of the car, and Hazel followed suit. In the split second when she was alone in the car, Lisbon lunged forward. The pull tab snapped off the soda can easily and she fumbled for a moment slipping it into her pocket. She could hear the crunch of footfall coming around, and the door opened, right as she got her hands back innocently on her lap.

Richard gestured with his handgun, “Get out.” Lisbon gingerly clambered out, her sensible shoes sinking and filling with cold slush instantly. There was another danger, her sluggish mind pointed out: _frostbite_. Richard smiled, gruesomely, and ordered, “Follow me.”

Hazel picked up her shotgun from the trunk and circled behind her. Lisbon trudged after him. She was out in the open, it would be the perfect time to escape. But with both of them armed, her hands cuffed, and the snow hindering her process, she’d be shot before getting very far for sure.

Instead of taking her up to the door, Richard led them around the back. The expansive yard sloped gently down, marked only by aspens and pine trees. They walked for ten minutes before coming to a clearing. In the center was a stump with an axe sticking out.

Lisbon stopped and dug in her heels.

“Move,” Hazel barked out, causing Haibach to turn around. Her fear brought smug satisfaction to his slimy face.

“No, no, please,” Lisbon said, staring wide eyed at him. “Please, Richard, don’t do this.”

“Are you sorry yet, Agent Lisbon?” Haibach demanded. No. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He leveled the handgun at her, and said very slowly, “Kneel.”

Her pleading fell on deaf ears, the snow soaking up the sounds, but her scream echoed through the mountain air.

 

* * *

 

A whole night had passed without Grace responding to his calls. That hadn’t happened in ages, not even when she was pissed at him. Wayne paced restlessly in the conference room.

He’d known she had a plan. It was written all over her face at the airport. He just hadn’t figured it would involve cutting off all contact with her husband.

It was for the Boss though, it had to be, and so Wayne had let her go. Now he was wishing he’d pushed her more.

“Rigsby,” Cho said, startling him. His old friend was in the doorway, holding open the glass. “You’re pacing and it’s making me nervous,” Cho said, straightforward as he ever was.

“I’m worried,” Rigsby confessed, keeping it vague. The next moment he knew it wasn’t going to fly, because Cho stepped into the room and let the door shut.

“This is about more than Jane and Lisbon being MIA,” Cho guessed, scrutinizing him. Even after years of working with Jane, Rigsby knew he was transparent. The agent read it clear as day. “Is it Van Pelt?” Cho was the only one to still call her that occasionally.

“I left her at the motel,” Rigsby said slowly. “She said she was going to sleep, but I think she was investigating instead.”

Cho didn’t blink, “I can’t blame her. She’d call us if she found something, right?”

With more confidence than he felt, Rigsby nodded vigorously, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“Come out into the bullpen,” Cho told him, “It’s better to worry in large numbers.” Rigsby huffed a laugh and followed him out.

They made it halfway to the briefing station when they were interrupted with a sharp, “Hey.” All turned to the newcomer. It was an agent Rigsby hadn’t met before.

Cho spoke first, “Agent Miller. What are you doing here?”

“There’s something weird going on,” Agent Miller informed them. “One of our analysts called me because John Hutten left the state.”

“That’s impossible, he’s in detention,” Cho said.

“I know. This analyst just happened to check the ankle monitor. You know, the one you threw at me.” Cho didn’t flinch at the accusation. Both men looked to Cho’s desk, where they’d last seen the ankle monitor. Sure enough, it was gone. Rigsby groaned. There was only one explanation.

Outwardly Cho didn’t appear phased. “Did your analyst say where it was?”

“Moving swiftly into New Mexico.”

“New Mexico?” The blonde tech guy, Wylie, piped up in question. He appeared shocked and a little awed.

Cho seized on it. “Wylie, why’s that relevant?” The blonde scrambled for his keyboard.

“I thought I’d take a different angle and look at Richard Haibach’s college record,” Wylie explained, “He wrote his thesis on the Pueblo people in New Mexico. I didn’t put it together because there was only one probable location in New Mexico, Haibach’s grandparents’ cabin, and the Santa Fe police checked it out. It’s been deserted for years.” He finally stopped typing and turned his monitor towards them. It showed a topographical map of the mountains there with the cabin marked.

“Do we have people watching it?”

Wylie shook his head. “No, apparently the mountains are too dangerous at night, they backed off.”

Rigsby moved behind Cho. “You think Jane figured it out and went to confront them?” He asked him quietly.

“And took the ankle monitor as insurance,” Cho theorized, “Possibly. Must’ve known we’d notice it was gone eventually.” If that was what happened, then that clinched it. Grace was with Jane. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse. But it meant he knew what he had to do.

“How soon can we get there?” Rigsby demanded, patting himself for his phone and holster.

“If we take a chopper we can be there in five.” Off his bewildered look, Cho added, “ _Hours._ ”

“No, I got that, but… wow.” He shook his head with an impressed chuckle. “FBI.”

Cho agreed with a smile, “FBI.”

 

* * *

 

He roused himself when the SUV rumbled to a halt. Outside the windows was white everywhere, even the cloudy sky. A two story cabin, idyllic under most circumstances, stood before them.

“We’re here,” Grace told him from the driver’s seat. She watched the house like a hawk, putting those cop instincts to good work. She’d come to his conclusion as well. “There’s firewood stacked outside but no smoke coming from the chimney. I don’t think anyone’s home.” Double checking the map, she added, “This is definitely the right house.”

“We didn’t make a mistake,” Jane assured her.

“How can you be sure?”

“Where could she be? Her pickup truck is parked outside. There’s no hiking in conditions like this. Hazel has to be in the area or with someone in their car. Sounds promising to me.” He swung himself out of the car. Looking down, he realized he definitely should have prepared for this trip. If the lack of jacket or warm clothing wasn’t going to be an issue, the lack of socks might be.

Grace got out and joined him, rubbing her arms vigorously; she at least had still been dressed for Washington. “Come on, let’s check inside.” She forged ahead, making tracks that Jane did his best to follow exactly. The cabin was definitely a home judging by the exterior. Once they were on the porch, shaking off their shoes, Jane peered in a window. Yes, rustic, but definitely a home.

She raised a fist to knock, but Jane stopped her. Instead, he felt around the welcome mat; sure enough, there was a key. He unlocked it and they slipped inside. There was plenty of natural light to illuminate the rooms. Immediately they both noticed the lack of electricity. Remote and removed from civilization, it was a perfect hideout.

It was also unmistakably empty. No sounds of its rightful occupants or hostages were heard. Jane let Grace go investigate the other rooms, but knew her search would only confirm that. He moved to the windows instead. Not much surrounded the cabin. A yard set up for chopping firewood was a little ways away. Beyond it Jane thought he could make out another structure through the trees. Was that a shack or another cabin? Two cabins this close together were unlikely to be owned by separate people.

“Hazel inherited this property,” Jane mused aloud.

He hadn’t meant for Grace to hear, but her input was welcome. “Yes, from her grandparents.” Jane moved away from the window and started searching of a different sort.

“You have your gun, don’t you?” Grace confirmed that, her worry no doubt growing. “I think they’re keeping her in the next cabin over. My bet is it used to be a guest house that fell into disrepair. It would be perfect to hold a person in isolation while you enjoyed the comforts of home close by.”

No good tools or weapons in the living room, so he moved on to the kitchen, Grace hot at his heels. “What are you planning to do?”

“Well it’s not a plan so much as it is a hope,” Jane confessed as he went through their drawers. Kitchen knives would be discovered. None of that would do. “As of now, you’re my only back up, Grace. When I go over there I’ll need—Aha!” He found a drawer with tools and pulled out a thin nail. He slipped it up his sleeve and caught it in a thread.

“You’re going to confront Lisbon’s kidnappers with a nail up your sleeve?” Grace asked, radiating skepticism.

He held out his arms. “I’m expecting to be searched thoroughly, what do you want from me?” Any further argument was forgotten. The unmistakeable sounds of the door opening made them both freeze. To Grace’s frightened expression, Jane took charge and ordered quietly, “Go hide.” She didn’t comply and he added, in a more demanding tone he’d learned from Lisbon, “ _Now_.”

Finally Grace backed away into another room, one he presumed would have enough cover to protect her. Jane thought quickly, and resumed his earlier search. When Hazel entered the kitchen, he was testing a knife’s sharpness.

“Drop it!” She ordered, and he jumped and did so, holding his hands up. “Who are you and why are you in my house?”

Jane studied her in the split second before he answered. Frumpy would be the unkind way to describe her; more accurately she was alone most of the time and forgot her personal appearance. She was, by nature, a very caring person. The problem was guilt channeled all her empathetic impulses towards her brother and so in her eyes he could do no wrong. Jane knew in that second that Hazel was dangerous and could not be turned against Haibach.

“My name is Patrick Jane,” He told her, affecting the right mix of confidence and apprehension, “And I think your brother is looking for me.”

She shuffled closer, and he knew he’d caught her off guard. “You’re Patrick Jane?” She asked, gesturing a little with her shotgun. Not an expert in it then, clearly. Lisbon would never be so wild with a firearm. But then shotguns made up for their low accuracy with volume. “Prove it.”

He thought about doing a cold reading, but dismissed it. “We met Haibach searching for the San Joaquin Killer,” He said instead, “But he was innocent. Later, I named him as Red John to lure out a killer, and he and I were held captive by Robert Kirkland. Your brother lost his thumb being tortured, and that’s why he’s devised this plot to torture my partner, Teresa Lisbon. I gave up my life in exile to come back and save her. Now I want to see Teresa and Haibach, can you take me to them?”

There was a moment when he saw Hazel waver. Then she drew closer and said, “Don’t move.” He held still as she pat down his torso and pants pockets. Satisfied, she drew back and gestured for him to go back through the living room. “I’ll take you there, just don’t pull anything stupid.”

Jane complied, not daring to shoot the room Van Pelt disappeared into a glance, and soon he was being marched out through the snow towards the cabin. As they passed the clearing for chopping wood, he happened to glance down. The stump was marred with fresh blood. His stomach turned.

No. It couldn’t be.

The cabin opened and Richard Haibach stepped out. No matter that Jane had been picturing him for almost half a day now, the sight of him still struck fear in his heart. He’d been right.

“Patrick Jane,” Haibach exclaimed, as if reuniting with an old friend, “I wondered when you’d show.” He took the steps down two at a time in his enthusiasm. “Do you know Teresa was sure you wouldn’t come? I tried to tell her it was inevitable, but that poor girl has so many trust issues.” He pulled a face in mock commiseration. Jane didn’t outwardly react.

“You got what you wanted,” Jane said stonily, “I’m here. You can let Lisbon go.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no!” Haibach chimed. “Now that you’re here the fun can begin.” Seriousness overtook the cheerful facade. “I’ve been waiting two years for this. You and Teresa are going to make it up to me.” Then he smiled, turning it to his sister and to Jane in rapid succession. “Let’s get you inside, Patrick, you must be dying to see her after all this time.”

Hazel’s shotgun dug into his back, and Jane had no choice but to follow their lead. Inside the cabin, which was one room only, there was a cellar door padlocked shut in the floor. Richard Haibach unlocked it, from a key Jane could see tied to his belt loop. Lifting the door, he motioned for Jane to look down. It was shrouded in darkness but Jane saw a ladder. He hesitated at the top.

“Go on,” Richard urged him. Shooting his captor a glare, Jane started down the rickety ladder. The cellar door closed before he got all the way down, leaving Jane to feel his way in the dark. In the cellar, Jane cast around for anything visible.

“Who’s there?” Came a cautious voice in the darkness. He whirled around to see Teresa Lisbon emerge from the shadows. He caught his breath.

She was beautiful. Terribly afraid, but still brave, and to him that made her beautiful.

“Lisbon,” He whispered hoarsely, then cleared his throat. “Teresa, it’s Jane.” She approached him like a wild animal. Her eyes could hardly believe it.

“Jane?”

“Yes.” He dared to draw closer. She didn’t shrink away, and that allowed him to look her over once more. Her face showed a few bruises, but they were light. He decided he wouldn’t worry about them; he knew she’d had worse. His gaze was drawn to her hands. They were cuffed together, no doubt an opportunistic move gained in taking her from the police station. Her left was wrapped in what appeared to be a pillow case. “Oh Teresa,” He breathed, “What happened?”

She looked down at her left hand. “I put it over in that corner.” She gestured, and he saw a small wrapped bundle sitting alone on the floor. “You’re supposed to keep severed fingers on ice,” Lisbon listlessly explained, oblivious to his mounting horror, “But I don’t have ice, so I put it in the coldest part of the room.”

“No, no, Teresa, oh, Teresa,” Jane needed to move in and envelop her in a hug. That way he could hide his tears in her hair. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

 

* * *

 

Lisbon was hallucinating. Or delusional. She couldn’t remember which was which.

But Patrick Jane was not holding her and apologizing. Just like she hadn’t lost her pinky finger hours before. Was it hours? She wasn’t sure. She’d lost blood, she knew that, that’s why she’d wrapped her hand in the pillow case.

Jane, or her mind’s conjuring of Jane, made her sit on the mattress. He held her close, stroking her hair, and whispering to her. The whispers, she was sure, were for his benefit. Wait, but if he was only in her mind, surely that meant it was for her benefit? This was getting confusing.

“It’s going to be okay, Teresa.” Jane never used her first name this often. Even his letters were addressed to her surname. He sat up a little, jostling her. “I have a plan. Hold out your hands.”

Without knowing why, she complied. Like magic Jane produced a key and unlocked the cuffs. They fell away with a clatter and Lisbon looked down in shock. When she tried using the shim earlier her hands had shook too much. She rubbed her raw wrists. Hallucinations couldn’t do that.

It felt silly to ask, but she couldn’t help it, and she kept her gaze on her hands. “Are you really here?” For a moment there was no answer, and she feared that in asking she’d dissipated the vision. Then a soft touch to her cheek brought her gaze back to him.

With understanding, he said, “You know I’m always going to save you, Lisbon.”

_“Whether you like it or not,” He’d said, a confession in a dark storage container in the wilderness._

Appropriate. And this time, despite all her attempts, she needed saving.

“I can’t believe his plan worked,” She murmured, searching his face. It was the same face she’d loved for years. The only additions were a tan and a beard. His forehead had smoothed, or maybe her memories were tainted by those horrible last few weeks. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He smiled. “If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d have come back sooner.”

“You’d be arrested.” She shook her head, realizing, “You _will be_ arrested. God, Jane, what are you doing? Are you going to run again?”

Jane hesitated, and in the pause, Lisbon noticed his fingers were still stroking her cheek. “I think it’s time I faced the music.” He tilted his head. “That’s what you want, right? Justice to be carried out.”

“I want you safe.” Her words moved him, he showed her that, written all over his face. It was novel, reading him, his mask no where to be found. Maybe he’d left it on the island. It took some groping in the dark but she took his hand in her whole one. A thought occurred to her and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t shared it earlier. “Thank you for the letters,” She whispered, “They’ve helped.”

Suddenly he crushed her to his chest. “I missed you.” Lisbon breathed out against him. This felt right. A secret, guilty pleasure revived after so long.

“I missed you too,” She told him as she pulled back. His eyes scanned her face, and she let him, even as her cheeks pinked. Oh God, until that moment she had barely thought about what she must look like. Her hair hadn’t seen a comb for nearly two days. Any makeup was long gone. She must appear tired and disheveled and an all around mess.

If he shared her opinion, he didn’t show it. Jane licked his lips, drawing her gaze. Quickly she glanced back up to his eyes. It was useless; he’d seen. She was sure he’d seen it a hundred times.

It was something Lisbon had long ago resigned herself to. As soon as she discovered the nature and depth of her feelings for her consultant, she knew Jane must know. He knew everything. Jane never let on, though there were moments they’d skirted the subject, so Lisbon got the message. He was and would always be unavailable.

Except this man before her, watching her with such tenderness, was hardly that man.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to say to you for a long time,” Jane said quietly, breaking her train of thought. Seriousness and Patrick Jane rarely ended well, so she desperately tried to divert him.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to escape? You got me out of the cuffs, we should try and run.”

His shrewd stare made it clear he recognized her tactic. “I have a plan. Trust me. Right now we’re being left alone which is for the best.” Jane softened, brushing her hair from her face. “No, I need to say this to you, and you need to hear it.”

He took a deep breath and Lisbon again wondered if this was all in her mind. Everything felt unreal. That Jane could be before her, trembling with emotion, steeling himself for some confession, was something out of her darkest fantasies.

“I told you once that you had no idea what you’ve meant to me,” He began, and Lisbon shuddered at the reminder of that day of heartbreak. “I realized on the island that that wasn’t fair. You deserved to hear the truth back then. You deserve it now too.”

He paused to gather his thoughts. It was then that she noticed her eyes were full of tears.

“For longer than I think either of us would care to examine, I hoped that once I was free from Red John, you and I could try for something real and honest. It didn’t shake out like that though. I told myself I could show you in my letters, but at that point it felt cruel to use the words if I couldn’t say them in person.”

She couldn’t let him go on like this. “Jane, you don’t need to say anything.” His sudden scrutiny was sharp and born from fear. He thought she didn’t want to know how he felt. Maybe she didn’t. Of all the terrors she’d experienced lately, this had the most potential to break her. But mainly she stopped him out of concern, and so clarified gently, “I know that it’s hard for you. I don’t need anything.” Not anything he couldn’t give.

“You’re right, it is hard. I’ve been terrified of letting anyone get close to me, for obvious reasons. But…” Jane struggled, tears choking him. Lisbon ran her hands down his shirt in a desperate effort to soothe. She didn’t notice the smear of blood she left behind. “The truth is that you being absent made my life so strange and sad. I can’t imagine going back to not seeing you every day. The truth is, Teresa…” He exhaled shakily as he met her eyes. “I love you.”

Shock waves rushed through her body. Lisbon’s mouth fell open, her lower lip trembling, until she ducked her head and scrunched up her face. Those three words had been a barrier between them that she’d never imagined would be broken. Lisbon could never say those words easily, could barely say them to her brothers, after so many years of being battered by the person who’d constantly say, _“I’m sorry, Reese, you know I love you.”_

There was no mistaking how Jane meant them either. This wasn’t how her brothers looked in rare moments of seriousness, or how Grace sounded when enveloping her in a hug. His relief and elation at his own admission made him laugh, a choked, semi-hysterical, half-sobbing laugh.

“It’s probably the last thing you need to hear right now, but I can’t help it.” Jane ran his hands down her arms, touching just about everywhere he could reach within decency. It didn’t occur to her to stop him. “I can say it now. I love you, Teresa.”

In her echoing speechlessness, the jangle of the padlock chain caught her attention. She tensed, glancing up at the higher floor. “Patrick, hush.”

His normal levels of perception were obviously missing. “No, it feels so good to—“

“Shh!” Lisbon hissed, slapping her whole hand over his mouth. With the other she motioned upwards, and he finally got it. The cellar door swung open, blinding them both momentarily. Haibach stood in a confident pose at the top of the ladder.

“You two,” He commanded, “Come up here. It’s time to play.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Jane disappeared into the cabin, Grace started pacing, a rhythm to help her think.

She was alone in a strange woman’s house in the middle of the mountains and her two friends were being held hostage at a nearby location. No signal, no internet, no electricity. It had been a while since Grace was so out of her element. There would be no way to contact back up. She was on her own.

Okay, don’t loose your head, Grace thought, take stock, what do you have?

Her Glock, obviously, was the biggest asset. It had a full clip, but if this turned into a firefight, she’d be out soon with no replacements.

Jane was sure the FBI was on their way. Without knowing when they’d arrive, however, they weren’t much of a contingency plan.

What would Jane do? Grace snorted. Probably a convoluted long shot of a bluff that he’d insist was flawless all along.

And what would Teresa do? She would… be direct. Go out and attempt to negotiate yet wouldn’t hesitate to fire if things went south.

Over the years at the CBI Grace learned a lot. She’d grown from a naive rookie into an intuitive and cunning agent. Most of that came from her boss and her consultant. And while they’d taught her much about catching criminals, she had picked up on things about them.

The reason Jane and Lisbon made such a good partnership was that their methods worked best together. Without Lisbon’s straightforward thinking and logic, Jane could have never closed cases. He’d definitely be dead, she thought, recalling all the times the Boss had saved his skin after a scheme gone awry. But without Jane’s meandering deductions and recklessness the same would also be true.

So, Grace went to work.

A hand mirror found in the bathroom was placed at the corner of the rear facing window. A dark flannel shirt hooked onto a broom handle got propped around the corner of the house. Blinds were drawn but set askew.

Then Grace prepared herself. She breathed deeply. She thought of Maddie and Ben, their laughs, their smiles. She remembered sharing wine at Teresa’s. She remembered Jane watching their wedding.

She could do this.

The cold seeped into her bones as Grace stepped lightly through the snow. From Hazel’s house, she’d scoped the best vantage point. A cluster of aspen trees on high ground could shield her and provided line of sight to the cabin’s front and to the woodcutting clearing. Grace pressed her back to an aspen and waited.

It felt like hours but was more like fifteen minutes. With each passing moment the cold got to her more, tensing her muscles, making her shake. Her aim would need steadying. If she’d had a knife she’d make a notch in the tree, but she wasn’t that lucky.

The cabin door opened and she forgot all about the chill.

Richard Haibach emerged first, a manic grin on his face. His handgun kept twitching as he walked. Jane came second, his hands up, and appearing very scared. That wasn’t a good sign. When Teresa walked out, Grace let out a gasp. She wore a brave face but that wasn’t enough to distract from the blood soaked rag around her left hand. Rage, righteous and pure, floored Grace in its intensity. Her grip on the gun tightened. No, she was doing this Teresa’s way, not Jane’s.

She waited as the party, trailed by Hazel and her shotgun, followed an already worn path through the snow towards the clearing. Though she was too far to hear them speaking, she observed their lips moving, specifically Richard’s and Jane’s. They formed a semicircle at the stump. Grace’s apprehension mounted, especially when Jane’s voice raised to a more frantic pitch.

“You’ve got me now,” He shouted, “I’m the one you want to suffer, do it to me!”

Their only response was for Hazel to press her shotgun between his shoulder blades. Grace felt sweat, impossibly, beading on her forehead. This had to end soon.

As Teresa knelt by the stump, she knew it was time.

“FBI!” Grace yelled out, hearing it echo. The Haibachs whirled around, unable to pinpoint the source. “Richard and Hazel Haibach you are under arrest, drop your weapons and get on the ground!” Jane and Lisbon exchanged a look, subtly drawing closer together.

It was faint, but she heard Richard say, “I know that voice.” Then he called out, “You’re not FBI! You’re the redhead, Grace!” He held up his gun and started peering out into the trees.

Before he could locate her, she replied, “We don’t want any more bloodshed, Haibach! We’ve got a squat team in your sister’s cabin right now! Do as we say and no one gets hurt!” As she’d hoped, Hazel turned her attention towards her house. She’d see the glint from a sniper’s scope, a dark shadow at the flank, and agents peeking through the blinds. From her body language, Grace knew her bluff had worked.

But Richard wasn’t frightened like his sister. “I’m not going anywhere!” The first shot whizzing past her tree caught Grace off guard. He’d found her. Grace returned fire, missing as Richard veered erratically to the side. Jane dropped to the ground and dragged Lisbon with him. She needed them out of danger.

Hazel saw their escape, priming her shotgun, and Grace switched targets. She got her square in the back, and Hazel screamed as she fell over. Richard paid her a moment’s attention before shooting with frenzied intensity. Grace had to duck and cover under the volley. It ended as, she presumed, he had to refill his clip, and Grace jumped up.

 _Bang_.

Lisbon stood holding the smoking shotgun, watching impassively as Richard Haibach slumped onto the stump.

Overhead, in the sudden absence of gunshots, Grace heard the whirring of a helicopter.

It was all over.

 

* * *

 

This was going to be bureaucratic hell.

He had a police chief kidnapped for starters. That was bad enough. On top of that the subject reopened the still raw wound of the CBI, a corrupted organization that most of the country wanted to pretend hadn’t existed. Then he managed to locate and retrieve a fugitive for murder, only for the fugitive to elude one of his best agents.

And now he stood in the snowy mountains of New Mexico with two dead bodies, one tortured police chief, one fugitive, and one bloody stump.

Bureaucratic hell. All nine rings of it.

“We need to CSU to sign off on this scene,” Abbott relayed brusquely to Cho and Fischer, “Then airlift the bodies out to our morgue. I want custody of this completely. I need Richard’s handgun, Hazel’s shotgun, and Grace’s glock entered into evidence. Apologies,” He added to Grace, who nodded, held by her husband. “The chopper is about to transport Lisbon to the Santa Fe hospital, Cho, I want you with her—“

“Wait!” Everyone stopped. Jane ran frantically from the cabin, clutching something to his chest. He sprinted for the helicopter and had a few words for the paramedic inside. He passed over a small wrapped bundle, and Abbott experienced nausea for the first time in a while. The other agents felt it too, even Cho, who couldn’t hide the set of his jaw.

When Jane made to enter the chopper, Abbott stepped forward. “Mr. Jane!” The blonde man turned and stared. It was rare to see the man uncomprehending. With great reluctance, he left the chopper to approach Abbott.

“What is it?” Jane demanded roughly. “I need to be with her at the hospital.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” Abbott told him, maintaining a voice free from sympathy. “You broke our agreement and fled FBI custody. Once I can release Agent Fischer from the scene, she will take you back to Austin, where you will spend the remainder of your time in a detention suite until you are tried for the murder of Thomas McAllister.”

He wasn’t glaring, but the expression on his face was deathly serious. “I don’t care about your detention suite or the charges against me. Lisbon needs me.”

“Lisbon needs to rest,” Abbott countered. “The paramedic said she is dehydrated and in shock. No doubt she will be in surgery for some time, and recuperating for far longer after that. You may feel the need to be with her, but are you certain that you’re acting for her benefit?” There was a flicker of doubt across his face. “And besides, right now, both of our hands are tied. I have to follow procedure.”

“Technically, I never left FBI custody,” Jane said, more brightly, lifting his left pant leg and revealing John Hutten’s ankle monitor.

Exasperated, Abbott shook his head, “The bureau doesn’t give a damn about your technicalities, Jane.” At that moment, the helicopter roared to life, and both men held their breath as it lifted off. With each foot it rose, Jane’s posture grew more defeated. His aim accomplished, Abbott allowed himself to put a consoling hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Coordinate with Fischer. I promise to do right by you. Your help in this matter will go a long way towards clemency.”

“Clemency,” Jane repeated in a murmur. “Well thank god for that.”

 

* * *

 

Index to thumb. Middle to thumb. Ring to thumb. Pinky…

Index to thumb. Middle to thumb. Ring to thumb. Pinky…

Index to thumb. Middle to thumb. Ring to thumb. Pinky…

Damn.

“Hey boss.” Lisbon sat up from her slump against the pillows. She blinked at the man in her doorway, a small, shy smile creeping on.

“Why, if it isn’t Special Agent Kimball Cho, FBI,” She teased softly. His eyes smiled, but he didn’t enter, and for an awkward moment Lisbon didn’t know why.

“Are you coming in?”

He leveled his gaze at her. “If you want me to.”

Oh. Cho didn’t know if he was welcome.

“Of course, have a seat.” He entered and fell into one of the hospital provided chairs by her bedside. Lisbon shifted onto her side so she could face him. He looked tired. “How are you doing, Cho?”

“Fine. How’s the hand?”

Lisbon held it up. A marvel in surgical precision, the surgeon had boasted. Aided by the short time severed, the low temperatures, and her first aid skills, he then conceded. The bandage itself had been unwrapped early yesterday, something about wounds healing better exposed to air. The gnarly black stitches at the base of her pinky finger were ugly and unavoidable.

“Physically it’s healing very well,” She reported to him, her voice more hushed and thready than she’d like, “But it’s been five days and I still don’t have good motion control. I’ll have to continue PT for weeks, if not months, to regain full range and strength.”

“We’ve done PT before,” Cho said matter of factly, “You’ll do well.”

Lisbon sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment. “Yeah.”

Her feelings were all tangled up. They were irrational, she knew that, but it had been difficult unraveling them. She’d gone over forty years with her pinky finger attached, but after less than three hours without it, it felt wrong to see it back on. As if a dead animal had been sewn to the end of her hand.

She was going to need therapy, that was for sure, and not just the physical kind.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Cho announced, drawing her focus. She thought they had been. This wasn’t even the first time Cho had visited her, although it was the first time they were alone. Before Grace and Rigsby returned home, the three visited together.

Lisbon did her best to show her attention. “What is it?” Several scenarios flitted through her mind, but she refused to let them worry her before he spoke.

Uncharacteristically, Cho seemed hesitant to speak. He gathered fortitude or words or whatever, and looked her square in the eye. “What I said to you the last time I was in Washington…”

_“You’re going to waste your life punishing yourself, squandering your talents, and waiting on a man who isn’t coming back.”_

They were having this discussion. After six months of stonewalling, it was finally happening.

“I was out of line,” Cho said, leaning forward his his hands laced over his knees, “I was angry and it made me cruel. It’s not my place to dictate your career and certainly not your personal life.”

Lisbon sounded each word out as she said them. “You were out of line, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong.” Cho met her gaze, and through his contrition she saw he wasn’t convinced. This would take a heart to heart. Neither of them had much experience in this. She sat up gingerly and dangled over the edge so their knees were touching. “It was difficult for me to get over how things ended at the CBI. I had a lot of regrets. I should’ve seen Bertram for what he was sooner, I should have contained the situation and prevented FBI interference, I should have stopped…” She waved the last one away. “The point is, I’ve never liked the quiet life, but when I was cleared of suspicion, I chose to remove myself from the action. Maybe you’re right, maybe I was punishing myself. I made a life, a boring one, but it was mine. I didn’t want to give it up and join an organization I was still resentful towards.” Laughing a little, she added, “Now I can honestly say me and Abbott are square. No hard feelings.”

Cho huffed a quiet laugh as well. “I was wrong about one thing.” They held eye contact a bit too long. “Patrick Jane did come back for you.”

Lisbon’s smile faded. “Abbott told me he’s in detention. We can’t see each other.”

Her memories of the cellar were coated in a haze of pain and delirium. When she’d woken the first time out of surgery, she wondered if she’d imagined him. And yet Abbott filled her in on the case and Jane’s actions. It had been real. Even…

_“The truth is, Teresa… I love you.”_

“I don’t think Jane will get 20 to life,” Cho said, speaking more urgently to assure her. “He’s got the most sympathetic motive anyone could imagine, he’s already charmed his way out of one murder charge, and with working with the FBI to save you, I think he has a good chance at acquittal.”

Premeditated murder, planned for over a decade, and he’d get acquittal. It didn’t seem possible, let alone right. Teresa had set her moral code aside for Patrick Jane many times. In that moment she wouldn’t contemplate his impending trial.

Quietly she said, “Kimball, can I ask you for a favor?”

His response was immediate. “Anything.

“If I wrote Jane a letter, would you make sure he gets it? I know he’s being kept in isolation—“

“Yes,” Cho answered, leaning back, “Do you have paper?”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t going to prison. His detention ‘suite’ had a window with curtains and a soft blanket on the mattress. Not a cot, a mattress. He received regular meals on a rotation of different restaurants and a pot of tea when he requested. They delivered him books, had even offered a TV which he declined.

Nope, Jane wasn’t going to prison. This was a game. Abbott had some sort of play, and Jane suspected he knew what that was.

Until Abbott showed his hand, Jane got to lounge and read and sip tea.

There was no sign of Lisbon.

It had been nearly three months since her abduction. All Abbott had shared was that she was recovering well. She’d been released from the Santa Fe hospital and, he’d been dismayed to hear, returned to Washington.

There was so much he needed to know. How was she feeling? How was her hand? What was there for her in Washington? Was she worrying about him? Did she think of his confession often? How did she feel about it? How does she feel about him?

Two years ago Jane may have known how she felt. He’d seen it coming for years. Lisbon was just the type to use a forbidden workplace crush to prevent herself from finding a real viable relationship. He’d been unavailable in so many ways, it was the perfect fit. And he’d been free to tease and flirt and foster her feelings with the excuse of using her for the Red John case.

Except that, lo and behold, he fell for her too.

Much had changed in two years. Jane wasn’t so unavailable. He wanted a ‘real viable relationship’. And Lisbon… He had no clue what she wanted. Hopefully it was him, though the pernicious dark doubt at the back of his mind insisted it was impossible.

Could she still love him? If she truly had before?

The door creaked open, and Jane looked up. Lunch had arrived. He thanked the guard and dug into the bag. It was sandwich day, apparently.

His fingers brushed something unexpected. Beneath the napkins there was an envelope. Contraband? He pulled it out. The envelope was sealed but not addressed. He pried it open and removed the single page folded within.

Jane’s heart lurched at the handwriting. With trembling fingers, he began to read.

 

> _Dear Jane,_
> 
> _It’s taken me so long to write this. I must have thrown out a whole rainforest by now. How did you manage to write me such beautiful letters so often? I can’t possibly, so I’m going to make this one count._
> 
> _Firstly, I know you’ll be worrying about me, so I’ll get that out of the way. They reattached my finger. It doesn’t hurt anymore. After weeks of physical therapy I can finally move it like I used to. I’ll always have the scar, but there will no lasting effects. I’m relieved and I know you are too._
> 
> _Secondly, I want to thank you for coming for me. You took risks and sacrificed your life and your freedom and I don’t know how to repay that. You’ll probably say, “You don’t have to,” which is sweet, but… I can only say thank you so many times before it feels trite and it will never be enough._
> 
> _Thirdly, and this is the most difficult, about what you said in the cellar. I couldn’t say anything at the time. I struggled with how to respond for months. The main issue is that you’re going to jail. You’re leaving me again. There’s always a good reason, forces outside your control, but it doesn’t change the fact that I get left behind. You made your confession knowing full well what Abbott would do and for that…_

 

Jane had to stop. Fear and guilt choked him. Gently setting the letter down on his bed, Jane took a moment to breathe.

Lisbon was within her rights to be angry. She’d be justified in telling him to go to Hell. He had very dearly hoped she wouldn’t.

After all the ways he’d hurt her over the years, he clung to the deep pain within his chest and knew he deserved it.

“Jane?” He lifted his head from his hands to see Abbott entering his room. The agent was concerned, and so Jane immediately turned on the charm.

“Dennis, what a pleasant surprise? Want some cold cut sandwich? I think this could generously be called turkey and swiss.” Abbott’s perceptive gaze flickered from Jane’s untouched lunch to the paper on his bed. There was no recognition there, which Jane was pleased to note. So the letter hadn’t gone through Abbott.

The agent declined to question him and instead forged ahead. “I’ve just come from a final meeting with my superiors. It’s time you and I had a talk.”

Aha, so Abbott’s gambit was finally revealed. Jane stood and brushed off his shirt. “Let’s.”

When Jane returned hours later, triumphant and brimming with energy, he caught sight of the letter and deflated. Things were different now, in the space of a single day. He needed to know where he stood, so he could set things right.

Jane lay down on the bed and held Lisbon’s letter aloft. He found his place, and with a deep fortifying breath, continued to read.

 

> _You made your confession knowing full well what Abbott would do and for that I’m not sure whether to slap you or kiss you. You’re still the same stupid, cowardly man who would wait until the very last moment to let me in on your schemes._
> 
> _I don’t care. I know you might go to prison. It’s not exactly news to me. If that forced your hand in telling me how you feel, then I guess I’m glad. I will always prefer the truth to an easy, comfortable lie._
> 
> _So even though we may be too late, I want to say_
> 
> _I feel the same way._
> 
> _Missing you,  
>  _ _U no hoo_

 

* * *

 

Friday night closing time, highly anticipated, came quietly for Chief Lisbon. Henry bid her goodnight as she packed up her things slowly. The seashell sat on her desk in just the same place. Her uniform was the same. Her hair was in the same tight bun. The only difference was a raised scar running around the smallest finger of her left hand.

Immediate paperwork went in her briefcase, and she just got the last file in when there was a gentle knock on her door.

“Come in,” Lisbon called without looking up. Footsteps entered her office.

“Nice place,” He said, making her freeze, “I like the, uh, cork board.” Slowly, Lisbon turned towards him.

Just like that Patrick Jane breezed back into her life.

“How did you get here?” She asked, her mouth hanging open stupidly.

“Plane,” Jane answered, his eyes twinkling, “Aisle seat, terrible for the lower back.”

She waved her hand, “You know what I mean.”

He sauntered over to her, a bounce in his step, “Don’t I get a hug or something?”

“You keep dodging my questions, you’ll get a punch to the nose.” It was as if she was reading off a script. The emotions washing over her kept her adrift and off-balance. Had he come to say goodbye? Was he fleeing north to Canada this time?

“Time has not withered your temper, I see.” With humor and apology in equal measure, he dipped his head. “Yes, alright, I have some good news. Abbott and I cut a deal.” Her heart leapt and Lisbon couldn’t breathe. “I work for the FBI for five years in exchange for a full pardon. No jail time and no chance of later charges. And as a free man I can travel wherever I like to meet whichever police chiefs I please.”

“Are you serious?” Lisbon asked, drawing closer, moth to light. “That’s… that’s incredible. How did you do it?”

“Eh,” Jane shrugged, “The particulars aren’t important.” Lisbon was about to protest when he spoke over her, giving her a significant gaze. “I had one term that was nonnegotiable.”

Her pulse was racing so fast, he could probably see it through her skin. She swallowed and croaked, “What?”

He spoke lowly, seriously, “The FBI has to offer you a job. I want to work with you again, Teresa. There is no other partner I would trust more than you.”

That was… as if she hadn’t been overwhelmed before. Lisbon put a hand to her head and encountered the tight pulled back hair. She blushed. This was not how she wanted Jane to see her.

“Can we talk in my house?” She asked, glad to see his enthusiasm double.

“Yes, I think privacy would be… yeah.” Jane reached over and took her briefcase, then walked to the door to hold it open. Floored by this gesture, Lisbon blinked at him for a moment. He waved the briefcase impatiently. “You coming?”

She jumped. “Right.”

The drive over to her house was silent. Jane peered out the window at the sedate streets of Canon River. Lisbon knew he was forming an opinion of the small town and doubted it would be favorable. While she had the instinct to defend her home, most of her would agree with his assessments, she was sure.

They walked into her house together, and Lisbon excused herself to change. The place had been sanitized and cleared by FBI forensics long before. When Lisbon could look in the mirror and recognize herself, she descended the stairs and found Jane in the living room. Contrary to her expectations, he was sat on her sofa, hands clasped, gaze inward rather than at her personal items.

Lisbon hovered by the coffee table. “Can I get you anything?” She offered awkwardly. “Tea? Water? Wine?”

“You can come here, Teresa,” Jane said instead, “I won’t bite.” He made it a dare, so Lisbon had no choice but to settle on the couch beside him. There wasn’t much space, and she could feel it when he sighed, “That’s better.”

“You got me a job offer from Abbott?” Lisbon summarized quietly.

“Yes,” Jane replied at equal volume, “And I want nothing more than for you to accept it. But whatever you decide, as long as it makes you happy, I’ll stand by it.”

“It’s not because he feels sorry for me or thinks I’m going to keep you in line?”

“You’re an exemplary agent, and Abbott isn’t such a fool as to hire you for any other reason. If fate had been kinder to you, you’d be Abbott’s boss by now.” He held her gaze, arguing intently, and it warmed her to the core. “Sure, the offer comes because of me, but I’m righting a wrong here, not getting you special treatment. If you take it—“

“I will,” Lisbon broke in softly. He was the teetering, off-kilter one now. She grinned at his gawping expression. “But I’m doing it on my terms. Number one, I will be going to Quantico to complete a refresher course. Number two, you’re helping me find a house, I hate moving.”

Jane murmured, eyes shimmering, “And number three?”

Lisbon bit her lip. “I don’t want to be in a position of authority over you. That would make us a conflict of interest.”

“Us?” He repeated, his arm moving stealthily behind her shoulders. For all Jane claimed himself a master with women, so far his technique resembled a preteen at the movies. She leaned into him to meet his gesture halfway.

Lisbon insisted, “I want us to be partners.”

Jane chuckled lightly. “We’ve always been partners, Teresa.” In weaker moments, Lisbon would doubt that. But right now, she knew that he believed it. He licked his lips, and invariably drew her gaze. When she flicked up to his eyes, they were dark. He whispered, “I want us to be more.”

There it was, her unequivocal declaration. No blaming it on the heat of the moment or pretending to forget it. The ball was in her court.

“If your main issue was my impending incarceration,” He went on, “Then that’s gone. If you had other issues, we should address them now.”

Lisbon drew breath, watching him through her lashes. “Did you mean what you said?” The playfulness fell away leaving Jane drawn.

“Yes. I meant every word of it.” The slightest pause betrayed his nerves, “Did you?” As if he didn’t know, Lisbon thought fondly.

“Yes.” That brought a wide smile to his face. It was pure happiness. She’d rarely seen Jane like that before. Her heart swelled. She’d made him that happy. “Say it again?” She requested, wanting to hear the words and feel what he felt.

Jane did one better. With tantalizing slowness, he touched her chin with his finger, as he did in the cellar. He didn’t pull, she went willingly under his guidance, and their lips met softly. She melted under his touch as she always had. It was a kiss that could only be described as a prelude, a beginning to something grand. Something that could last.

They would make sure of it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my Mother <3
> 
> We always watched the Mentalist together, she called it her favorite show, as it is mine. She read most of this but never saw it finished.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read it.


End file.
